


The Edge of Light

by MaritimeBlue



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey
Genre: Empathy, End of Interval, F/M, Impression (Dragonriders of Pern), Natural Disasters, Original Character Death(s), Talents canon included, Telepathy, Threadfall (Dragonriders of Pern), Unqualified characters doing their best, With A Twist, all the -pathies, canon universe with all original cast and setting, classic Hatching and dragonriders vs. Thread story, seemed like the best plan at the time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2018-10-04 02:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10265669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaritimeBlue/pseuds/MaritimeBlue
Summary: A Hatching should be a joyous occasion, but after an earthquake and the death of its young senior queen, Telgar Weyr has to pick up the pieces and relocate with what's left, all while scrambling to prepare for the start of the Pass. Everyone has to do what they're capable of—and more—if they're to have a hope of successfully rising to meet their first Threadfall. Minor Talents-verse canon included.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I started out posting this on the Other Major Fanfiction Site, and decided to cross-post here as well. This version, being the later one, is slightly edited from the original. I do hope that you enjoy it, and choose to leave me some comments. I'm only a few chapters in so far, but I have a decent idea of where it's going, and I'm no stranger to writing long fiction. It's currently un-betaed, but hopefully not too riddled with errors. Thank you so much for taking the time to drop by, and I hope you'll stick around (and comment)!
> 
> Disclaimer: This piece is written in compliance with Anne McCaffrey's published rules on fan fiction. It is posted here as a transformative work for personal use only, and will be removed if properly requested from the copyright holder. I do not and will not make any profit from this piece, though I hope you all enjoy reading it as I enjoy writing it. I also do not make any claims to rights on this series. Anne McCaffrey and Todd McCaffrey are the owners of the Dragonriders of Pern® series, and I'm grateful for the chance to play on their literary land.

            Balani rubbed her arms, shivering in the cool air that drifted through the opening of the Hatching Cavern.

_Come inside_. Myrlyth’s voice sounded sleepily in her mind as the queen shifted her weight, half drowsing beside her clutch of eggs.

            Balani darted a glance back at her queen and shook her head, leaning against the warmth of the sandstone wall and resuming her watch on the night sky. Stars spangled the darkness overhead, flickering as wisps of clouds drifted by.

            Myrlyth lifted her head, and the blues and greens in her eyes slowly picked up tinges of yellow. _What’s wrong?_

“Nothing, dear one.” Balani’s voice was deceptively calm, and she stood stock still. For a young weyrwoman, she was good at closing her dragon out of her thoughts, for better or for worse. “How are the eggs?”

            _They are well. The hatchlings stir. Something’s wrong, though._ Despite her rider’s abrupt calm, Myrlyth’s agitation continued to increase, and Balani cursed her irresponsibility in letting her brooding queen pick up on her fear. She turned and quickly walked inside, up to the dragon’s head, where she rubbed a gentle hand over the gold’s eye ridges.

            “It’s just the nightmares, Myr. It may not be anything to worry about.”

            Myrlyth rumbled and swept her tail possessively closer around her precious golden egg. _Vranth should be here_ , she said.

            “They’ll be back to the weyr soon. The gather is running late.”

            _There is trouble_ , the queen insisted, _Balani, something is wrong_. Balani sighed, projecting soothing thoughts at her and shifting foot to foot on the hot sand.

            “No, dearest, nothing is wrong. You know I get nightmares sometimes. It doesn’t mean anything.”

            But the queen was rising to her feet, her wings mantling, eyes beginning to spin at an alarming speed.

            “Myrlyth!” Balani was confused and lost as her queen spread protective wings across the clutch and bugled a strident warning, her talons digging deep into the sand. A maelstrom of emotions hit Balani’s mind, as if the dragon were channeling a whole weyr’s worth of dragons’ feelings straight at her.

            “What –”

            The ground jolted and threw her against Myrlyth’s leg. She gasped and clung as the dragons throughout the weyr roused, bugles and roars filling the air.

            _The eggs! My eggs!_ Myrlyth growled, her eyes going completely red, looking for an unseen attacker. Balani struggled to calm her.

            “Myrlyth, you need to calm the others! MYRLYTH!” she shouted, unable to get through to the dragon’s mind.

            Nothing went quiet in those seconds. The chaos in the weyr rose, shouts echoing through the weyr bowl in air that was eerily calm. Myrlyth continued to hiss, swinging her head around to confront a frightened lower cavern worker who pelted to a stop at the doorway.

            “Weyrwoman! You have to get out of here! You both have to get out of here!”

            Balani, her mind assaulted by her queen’s fear and the psychic pressure of hundreds of other dragons clamoring at Myrlyth, stared at her blankly. “What was that?”

            The woman took several steps forward before backing off again, cowed by the furious queen. “Weyrwoman, get out, get out, get out!” She was backing up the whole time, her eyes massive. “You have to get out!”

            “Why? What’s going on?” Balani’s voice rose into a shriek.

            The sand rippled beneath her feet.

            _VRANTH!_ Myrlyth’s desperate call for her mate was useless. The shaking built and the mountain that cradled their weyr groaned and stretched.

            Balani staggered, finally understanding, and grabbed hold of her queen’s leg. Her desperation punched through her queen’s confusion and panic. _MYRLYTH! GET OUT OF HERE!_

_My eggs!_

            _NO! We have to get out RIGHT NOW!_ Balani couldn’t catch her breath. She lurched forward while the shaking continued to intensify and bits of rock showered down from the ceiling. Myrlyth emitted the most heartbreaking whine she’d ever heard, then her fear for her own rider began to move her towards the exit, her bulk providing just enough stability for Balani to move with her. Cascading rubble and an echoing shake provided a staccato backdrop for screams and shouts as the entire weyr roused in panic.

            Myrlyth roared when a larger rock hit her wing.

            Outside, Vranth had arrived, bellowing as N’tag dropped from his back and stumbled towards the hatching cavern.

            His eyes met Balani’s just before the rock fall tumbled down the fragile cliff face by the hatching cavern exit.

            The sudden hush that descended as the violent rocking subsided was shattered by the queen’s anguished scream of pain, choked short by the oblivion of _between_.

            And then the keening began.

            N’tag coughed in the rising rock dust, staring wildly around at the weyrfolk watching the blocked entrance in horror.

            He attempted to speak and choked, then tried again. “Everyone get down here! Quickly! We have to clear the rocks!”

            Weyrfolk began to stream toward the disaster as keening stopped and dragons swooped down, the death keen forgotten in frantic industry. Whether the weyrwoman was alive or not beneath that rubble, a clutch of eggs lay trapped. Hands and knees were skinned, dragon claws splintered as they set a feverish pace. N’tag shouted directions, even as Vranth bespoke the other queens of Pern, calling for help.

            A space in the rockfall began to clear and glows were handed up, N’tag peered into a swirling cloud of dust in the open space beyond.

            “Do you see anything?” a wingleader shouted up, and N’tag shook his head, sweeping the light back and forth.

            “Oh!” The green rider kneeling next to him pointed, one grimy hand covering her mouth, and he turned the light to see, forgetting to breathe. A long moment passed while he peered in, and then the beam of light glanced back through the dirt on an untouched, golden egg.

            He breathed out hard and turned to the crowd. “The queen egg!” he called, unable to say more.

            “Some of the clutch made it! Keep working!” the green rider cried, and a shout went up. Dragons from other weyrs began to fill the sky, then, gold and bronze, brown, green, and blue, descending wherever there was clear space. Help had arrived. But the struggle had just begun.


	2. New Telgar Weyr

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This piece is written in compliance with Anne McCaffrey's published rules on fan fiction. It is posted here as a transformative work for personal use only, and will be removed if properly requested from the copyright holder. I do not and will not make any profit from this piece, though I hope you all enjoy reading it as I enjoy writing it. I also do not make any claims to rights on this series. Anne McCaffrey and Todd McCaffrey are the owners of the Dragonriders of Pern® series, and I'm grateful for the chance to play on their literary land.

Morika had only been to Telgar Weyr once, when her brother stood for a Hatching five Turns ago. She remembered that day as sunny, filled with happy chaos and noise that rang through the Weyr bowl, and celebrations that lasted well into the night. When she and her family had congratulated B'lor and brown Nith before leaving, the Weyr had just been settling for the night in exhaustion and contentment, new riders and dragonets bedded down, and older dragons sleeping on ledges or watching from jeweled eyes as the guests departed.

When blue Illsath burst out of _between_ above New Telgar, it was nothing like the Telgar that Morika remembered. He banked widely, and Morika stared down at the jagged peaks cradling the half valley that housed the weyr. Mountainous terrain sprawled away as far as she could see, blanketed in swathes of mist that seemed to hang on the deep, evergreen forests clinging to the sides of the mountains. Even over the buffeting wind of flight, she thought that she could hear the roar of waterfalls somewhere. From this height, the whole thing looked like a painting done up entirely in a palette of gray, blue, and green.

"Is it always so wet?" she shouted to J'larn, shivering at the water droplets in the air.

"Only when it's not!" he shouted back, and she blinked, nonplussed. Illsath's amusement prickled at the edge of her mind, but if he said anything, she didn't hear. He dropped air from his wings and began a precipitous drop towards the weyr–what there was of it–leaving Morika's stomach somewhere back in the clouds.

The green watch dragon trumpeted a greeting when they swept past, but Morika had only an impression of emerald green hide, busy as she was staring down into the valley. They entered through a narrow pass, sweeping over a thin but deep river and following it up the valley that it had carved. The space opened quickly, broadening out to a modest half circle on one side and a respectable bowl on the other. The river traced back to an impressive waterfall at the far end of the valley, plunging to the valley floor from a dizzying cliff height. Morika found her arms tightening almost painfully around J'larn's waist as Illsath turned towards the wider half of the valley end and backwinged hard, depositing them far enough away from the waterfall that its crashing was dulled to white noise.

"You can let go, now, Lady Morika," J'larn wheezed, and she released him as if burned.

"Oh! I'm sorry!"

He coughed and shook his head, then helped her begin undoing the safety straps. Once she was free, he helped her slowly slide down Illsath's side. She landed and stumbled a few steps before spinning back as Illsath started to back up.

"Thank you, J'larn, thank you, Illsath," she said, nodding to both of them. Illsath projected a feeling of acknowledgement and welcome at her, and J'larn gave her a jaunty salute, then the blue launched himself back into the air without any further instructions. Morika coughed a little in the backwind of debris and turned slowly in a circle, looking around. It was clear that a lot of construction had taken place recently, with new cave openings dotting the sides of the cliffs, and piles of rubble stacked at strategic points.

A woman in riding leathers was approaching from the largest entrance, and Morika started forward, intending to ask where she should go–or at least where B'lor was.

"Are you Morika?" the woman asked as she got closer, and Morika shut her mouth and bobbed a curtsey instead, seeing the knots of a gold rider on the woman's shoulder.

"Yes, weyrwoman."

"And J'larn dropped you here without as much as a by-your-leave." She snorted, staring off in the direction the pair had flown. "Well, it makes no never mind. Come with me." She spun on her heel and started back towards the cavern entrance, Morika hurrying to catch up. "My name is Taraline, rider of gold Kesseth, of Benden Weyr."

This, then, was the queen pair sent to help beleaguered Telgar Weyr in their time of need. Morika had heard that a temporary queen willing to tend the surviving clutch until Hatching and serve as senior queen until the next queen's maturity had been loaned from Benden. Whether they stayed beyond that seemed to be uncertain. Morika couldn't guess how old Taraline was; she had an ageless, classic appearance that made her age indefinite.

"Yes, weyrwoman," Morika repeated again, unsure what else to say.

Taraline stopped so abruptly that Morika nearly ran into her. She rocked back on her heels as the taller woman pinned her with intense, dark eyes. "Your brother said that you're an empath."

"Yes, weyrwoman –"

"I sincerely hope that empathy did not strangle your vocabulary," Taraline retorted, and Morika felt herself wither. "No, none of that. We need your skills, and J'larn implied when he went on Search that the disaster strengthened your talent. But it will do us little good if you're shrinking into the wall with no confidence." Without waiting for a reply, she turned and began marching across the bowl again. "All these holder girls, they always arrive at the weyr with the same problem. They've been drilled from day one to be quiet and submissive, good little sheep to marry and bear children."

Morika bristled. "That's not true!"

Taraline glanced back at her and a ghost of approval flitted over her face. "Perhaps not," she allowed. "But you must admit that it's widely preferred, at least. I'm assuming that as the Lord Holder's daughter, you received some training in bookkeeping and the like?"

Morika blinked, trying to keep up both mentally and physically. "Yes, some. I'm considered competent enough with both letters and numbers, and I was trained in the logistics of running a hold." Though recently she’d spent most of her time with the healers, out of sheer necessity–for both them and herself.

"Good. There's hope for you yet."

They were at the cavern, and walked in to the warm glow of a well-lit living area with fires burning in all the hearths. The prevailing damp outside seemed banished to the doorway, and Morika breathed in the comforting smell of baking bread. There were more people present in here: women knitting by the fire, children at one of end of the cavern clustered around a harper, some tired-looking riders eating quietly at the tables.

"Most of the riders are out rendering aid to the holds affected by the earthquake," Taraline said, leading her to one side. "They'll be back in the evening. As a candidate, you're expected to stay out of their way." She shot a look at Morika, evidently remembering after speaking that her brother was a rider. "Of course you may visit with your brother," she allowed, "but please be aware that everyone is both busy and tired."

They continued down a hallway deeper into the mountainside, passing various weyrfolk as they went. Some nodded and smiled; most looked tired and harried, hurrying past with little acknowledgement. Morika gazed at them all curiously. The people of Telgar Hold looked much the same, but they hadn't been hit as hard by the disaster and were recovering faster. Certainly, they hadn't had to pick up and move an entire settlement of people, let alone dragons mourning the loss of their only queen and deaths of weyrfolk, riders, candidates, and eggs alike.

Taraline popped her head into an office as they passed it. "A moment, Zella?"

The woman who came to the doorway was older, gone completely gray, but an air of competence seemed to hide her fatigue. "Weyrwoman Taraline."

"Morika, this is Headwoman Zella. You are to obey all her orders as if they came from me. She runs the weyr and is attempting to put Telgar back to rights, a massive task if there ever was one." Did Morika imagine the twitch of annoyance in the woman's face? If she had, it was gone in a second.

"Zella, this is Morika of Telgar Hold. She is brown rider B'lor’s sister, and comes to us with the second round of candidates."

Zella's eyes were frankly measuring, and Morika worked to hold her gaze. "Sister of a rider, but only just now coming on Search?"

Taraline looked expectantly at Morika, so Morika answered.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma'am. I was Searched a clutch ago, but kept back for a marriage alliance. The disaster dramatically strengthened… well, an empathic talent that I had been using to help the hold healers. And with the loss of candidates… I demanded my right to go on Search. I thought I might be useful." Remembering her own daring, she blushed. Her mother had flatly refused, but her father had listened.

One of Zella's eyebrows arched. "I see. Any other talented siblings?”

“Two older brothers and an older sister.” She hesitated. “They’re not sensitive to dragons.” 

Zella looked her up and down again. "Well, we shall see. Certainly every hand is helpful right now, regardless of special talents, and if you can make yourself useful, you’re welcome enough here." She shot a pointed look at the weyrwoman that Morika couldn’t interpret. "I'll see that supplies are left in the candidate quarters for her, and I'll let V'tend know that she's here."

"Thank you, Zella," Taraline said, and couldn't seem to stand still any longer. With a nod to the headwoman, she was back to marching down the corridor. Morika dropped a fast curtsey to Zella and followed.

It wasn't much farther to the candidate quarters, and Taraline paused outside the doorway, hesitating for the first time. "As you know, several of the eggs were lost, and some of the candidates died in the earthquake. Others chose to go home to help with rebuilding. The candidates here currently are a mix of originals and candidates found during the Second Search. I recommend that you learn as much as you can from the original candidates outside of lessons, as you have very little time to accustom yourself to the weyr before the Hatching, and will have even less after that, should you Impress."

Morika remained silent, sensing that there was more, and within a moment, the other did continue. "Weyrwoman Balani did survive the disaster," she said softly, and Morika gasped involuntarily, covering her mouth to stifle the noise. Taralinesighed. "She is… not well, but she woke shortly after I arrived and after we settled on making this outpost into New Telgar. We don’t know how long she'll live past the Hatching, but she wishes to help train the new queen rider, if she is able to do so. At the least, with the previous Weyrwoman, Lena, passed, and many records destroyed, Balani has a tremendous amount of knowledge and training that must be passed on or lost. One of the reasons that your brother brought you to our attention–for, in the chaos, certainly no one remembered your initial Search–was because we all hoped that you might be able to help her with your unique talent. The Master Healer especially is hopeful. To that end, I will come find you tomorrow morning after breakfast. I can’t say that it will be easy, or even that you will have success, but we hope that you can do something."

Morikagrasped the significance quickly, and finally understood why the Search rider had come back for her, and hadn’t left the Hold until she’d secured permission to come with him. She met Taraline’s gaze and tried to project reassurance about a task that she had no measure of yet. "Of course. Of course I will. I keep it mostly blocked out, and since the earthquake, I've felt everything so much more strongly. But working with the healers prior to that taught me to block it out. I was only just learning more techniques after my strength increased… I hope that I know something that can help her."

Taralinenodded, and Morika, thinning her shields more, felt tendrils of the weyrwoman’s conflict reaching out, though it didn't show on her face. "The one thing that is important, that Master Healer Mebb warned us about, is that you must not allow Balani's pain and grief to damage you. You mustn’t take that onto the Hatching Sands, or we cannot allow you to stand."

"I understand."

Taraline touched her shoulder. "Good. I’ll leave you here with the other candidates, then. I expect that your brother will be back late, around the last mealtime. You’ll likely find him in the main cavern that we came in through."

"Thank you, weyrwoman."

Taraline smiled, thengesturedtowards the cave. "Well, go and meet the other candidates. Zella will be along soon to bring you your provisions, and Weyrlingmaster V'tend should be by later tonight to explain rules to those of you who are new."

Morika tried on a smile, excitement and fear building over the feeling of being overwhelmed.

"Until later, Morika." The gold rider walked away, then glanced back, tossing over one shoulder, "And welcome to New Telgar Weyr."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always imagined the Pern series to be part of Anne McCaffrey's larger Talents-verse, and I imagined that in the Passes prior to the Dragonflight-era, some of these talents were known of and nurtured. Uncommon, perhaps, but not so much as to cause fear. That being said, one of the things that Taraline mentioned is something that I've wondered about. Queen riders are supposed to be strong leaders, but this is counter-cultural to the fairly patriarchal Pern we see by the time of F'lar and Lessa. We know that Queens tend to prefer riders from outside the Weyr, but how difficult must it be as Passes progress (and Pern becomes more feudal and patriarchal) to find holdbred or craftbred girls who both have independence and mental power for the queen to choose from? Morika growing up with empathy that was then kickstarted by disaster (think The Rowan sparking into a Prime Talent because of the mudslide) put her in a position to have at least one, but it remains to be seen whether she has enough of the other. Right now, she's just arrived in a refugee outpost-turned-Weyr and is feeling pretty overwhelmed.  
> As for the Hatching, this is also a time period when greens are choosing girls—and certainly with a diminished candidate pool, they wouldn't have much choice!—so it will be interesting to see how the Hatching plays out. The dragon's choice is paramount!  
> On another note, some of you may notice something a little odd about New Telgar: all the trees. This story takes place at the tail end of an Interval, so even in the midst of a massive earthquake recovery effort and re-establishment in a brand new weyr, there's another threat looming: Thread.


	3. The First Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This piece is written in compliance with Anne McCaffrey's published rules on fan fiction. It is posted here as a transformative work for personal use only, and will be removed if properly requested from the copyright holder. I do not and will not make any profit from this piece, though I hope you all enjoy reading it as I enjoy writing it. I also do not make any claims to rights on this series. Anne McCaffrey and Todd McCaffrey are the owners of the Dragonriders of Pern® series, and I'm grateful for the chance to play on their literary land.

Morika felt small and lost, huddled next to the hearth while she waited for her brother to appear. After the cold greeting she'd received from the other female candidates, she had nestled herself in an out-of-the-way corner of the main living cavern. The other girls had been cordial enough, but Morika couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't welcome. The morass of feelings permeating the sleeping room had only confused her further, until she'd stammered an excuse and slipped out, back to the main living areas. She'd been sitting out here since then, trying to observe while still avoiding eye contact.

People in recovery from crisis were an odd breed, simultaneously quick to laugh, anger, and cry, yet strangely blunted in their emotions the rest of the time, so that Morika was left shutting herself off from the jagged spikes assaulting her mental space.

She wondered if she should be doing something right now, but reasoned that her next instruction was to see the weyrwoman after breakfast the next day. She considered approaching one of the grannies, but opted instead to use the quiet time to try and order her thoughts. She had the uneasy feeling that the weyr would be a much more difficult place for her than the hold had been, and that she wouldn't get much chance to adjust after today. So she sat, closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and tried to concentrate on the rhythm that underlaid the quiet bustle in the cavern.

The wing of riders that streamed in as the sun set was completely at odds with the subdued atmosphere that Morika had been concentrating on aligning herself with. They jangled in her senses, and her eyes sprang open, re-raising her mental shields reflexively.

There was over a dozen of them, young and raucous, calling out to each other and the support staff, laughing and jostling each other.

"Would you lot keep it down?" That was the cook, emerged from the kitchen and threatening them with a ladle. One of the men laughed and spread his arms expansively.

"Ah, but Wilne! We came back with supplies! Crom sends a tithe!" He laughed again and caught the ladle when the cook shook it too hard and lost her grip. 

Morika blinked and weakened her shields, reaching out curiously to feel the riders' dragons. They were faint through her thinned shields, just sparks that matched their humans' good humor and excitement. She closed herself off again as the emotions in the cavern increased with the news. She could still feel the wash of emotions, but it blunted her range and the immediacy.

People began to make their way out into the bowl, and when she saw the first ones return carrying packages, she got to her feet and made her way outside as well.

The dragons of the wing were situated nearby, loaded down like pack mules with nets full of goods. Morika had scarcely reached a large brown when a hefty woman turned and dumped a sack full of tubers into her arms.

"Well, take it in!" the woman chided, already turning back to continue unpacking the netting.

Morika obediently turned and carried it back to the kitchens, where she was briskly turned back around for another load. By the time she'd made five trips, the crowd had largely unloaded the dragons, and people were beginning to settle in the cavern, talking animatedly in much better spirits than earlier. Morika rubbed a tuber-bruised arm and glanced around. She didn't see the female candidates, and she still didn't know anyone here.

"You must be B'lor's sister," a voice said next to her, and she turned, surprised, to see a rider standing next to her, surveying the cavern and apparently not looking at her at all.

"Yes, that's me. I'm afraid you have the advantage…?"

He turned and quirked a fast smile. He was taller than her, relatively unremarkable but for his riding leathers and the knots of a brown rider.

"I'm H'ralen, brown Serith's rider," he said, and nodded at her.

"And you know me how…?"

His eyes were laughing at her, and she couldn't quite tell if it was at her expense or not. He tapped his head once. "Serith could feel you. You helped unload his harness. Not many empaths wandering around here right now. At least, not ones we're unfamiliar with."

"There are others at the weyr?" She forgot her manners in her sudden desperate need to know.

"A handful," he replied, then elaborated when she did a poor job of hiding her impatience. "A couple of riders. One of the harpers. You'll surely meet them soon."

She was afire with questions that she bit back. How old were they? How strong? Had they been trained? Could they help her? The healers had been a good place for her to learn what she could, but they'd been unskilled teachers in helping her learn the things her talent gave her that craft and education could not.

Just as she opened her mouth to ask another question, a familiar figure entered the cavern with another group of riders, and she stopped, torn between wanting to find out more and wanting to go greet her brother. H'ralen looked over at the source of her distraction, and raised an arm.

"Oy! B'lor! I found your sister!"

Morika abruptly regretted not going straight to B'lor herself, as multiple people near them turned and looked at her curiously. She shrank into herself and concentrated on her brother as he turned at the shout and smiled, striding over to them.

"Sister! Well met," he said, grabbing her in a rough hug. She squeaked when he lifted her, then set her back on her feet before clasping her arm more formally. "When did you arrive?"

"B'lor! It's good to see you. I just got here earlier today."

"And I see you've met H'ralen," he said, his attention shifting to the other rider, who was still standing to her left and suddenly no longer looking quite as amused. Morika shivered at the conflict she felt between them. There was no animosity, but there was something else... competition? Her frustration at her own limitations distracted her from discerning everything else.

"Yes, I have. How are you, B'lor? How is Nith?"

"We're both well. Tired. Hungry! Have you eaten?" B'lor asked, looking between Morika and H'ralen.

"No, not yet," Morika replied.

"Our wing just got in," H'ralen answered.

"Ah, but I'm assuming you'll want to eat with your wingmates?"

"I'd be pleased to catch up with you and get to know your sister, actually," H'ralen replied with a charming grin. Morika gave up trying to understand the dynamic as B'lor nodded jerkily, then guided her to a table mixed with riders and lower cavern folk.

"How have you been?" B'lor asked, handing her a plate and motioning for her to serve herself from the platters at the center of the table.

Morika hesitated, looking at her tablemates, but no one was paying attention to them except for H'ralen.

"I've been well," she hedged. "Working hard with the healers." She left unsaid that she felt completely overwhelmed right now with the sudden, dramatic change in arriving at New Telgar, making her control tenuous.

"Are you making progress? I know it was difficult, after the earthquake."

"Definitely some," she replied, glancing at H'ralen again. "I'm sorry, how do you two know each other?"

Their matched raised eyebrows made her realize it was a stupid question. "Other than being riders. You two know each other." She gestured back and forth, then sighed. "B'lor," she added, half pleading, and he understood and snorted, rolling his eyes at H'ralen.

"She feels it," he explained, since Morika was failing to explain. "That we're not just acquaintances."

"We're clutchmates," H'ralen supplied. "And we recently had a wager that your brother lost. I think that's enough explanation."

It was, and it wasn't. She really needed to better understand what the emotions she'd felt had meant, but it was clear that she wouldn't get much more explanation. At the same time, the mental "flavor" of a long acquaintance resolved in her head, and she at least could identify that much.

"I see," she said. "B'lor, H'ralen said there are other empaths here?"

"Yes. Not a good night for me to take you around to meet people, but there are." He shot a warning look at H'ralen that Morika didn't think she was supposed to see. "It will have to wait. The Weyrwoman may introduce you, actually."

H'ralen looked amused again, and was studiously studying a spot in the middle distance while he chewed.

Morika swallowed and fought the now-familiar sense of frustration. Her powers were stronger, but the crush of people, all so very  _loud_  to her senses, were only confusing her more than when they were weaker. Having to keep partial shields up, like holding a muscle flexed, wasn’t helping. She hadn't realized how many cues she'd been picking up before that were unspoken. All three were quiet for several minutes, just eating.

"Do you need me to walk you back to the candidates' sleeping rooms?" B'lor asked when Morika had finished her plate, and she frowned.

"We've hardly caught up at all. I was hoping you could tell me more about the weyr, and about how you've been."

"I know. I'm sorry. Tomorrow, though, I promise. Nith and I have had a long day."

H'ralen watched the exchange. "I would be happy to show you around tomorrow, Morika."

"We both can," B'lor said. He rose to his feet. "Here, I'll walk you back."

"That's all right," Morika said, also rising. Now that he'd pointed out, she could see that there were lines on his face and bags under his eyes, and she felt selfish for not realizing before. She turned and nodded at H'ralen. "It was a pleasure to meet you, H'ralen. My duty to your dragon."

He rose as well, also done eating, and gave her a small bow. "The pleasure was all mine. I'm sure I'll see you again soon, Lady Morika."

Morika nodded to them both, gave B'lor a small hug, then made her way out of the cavern and down the winding path to the candidates' rooms.

When she cautiously entered, the only person there was a slight, dark-haired girl sitting on one of the beds and studying what looked like a map.

"Hello," Morika said with a friendly smile when the other girl looked up. The girl blinked and studied her for a moment while Morika's smile faded, then she smiled back.

"Hello. I don't think we met earlier. I'm Grailse."

Morika breathed a sigh of relief, moved to the bed her things had been put next to, and began pulling out bathing supplies and a change of clothes. "I'm Morika."

"Yes, I know," Grailse said.

"Does everyone know who I am?" Morika asked, dismayed. "I don't know anyone."

Grailse gave a startled bark of laughter. "Hardly! My aunt is Headwoman Zella. She told me to be sure you had everything you needed tonight."

"Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't mean–that is, I don't…" Morika trailed off and decided she'd be better off if she stopped talking. She busied herself sorting through her things.

"It's fine," Grailse replied briskly. "Did the others give you a hard time?"

Morika's hands stilled for a moment. "No."

"Of course they did," Grailse said. "Everyone is out of sorts right now. They're not so bad, though. If you show you're reasonable, they'll come around."

Morika shot her a narrow glance, wondering at the other's openness to a newcomer.

Grailse was studying her map again. "Ten candidates have left since the earthquake. Three more of the new ones left immediately when they found out what rough shape the weyr was in. They just aren't sure you'll stick around, is all."

Morika absorbed that for a moment. "I'm planning to stay."

"Hopefully so," Grailse said, smiling again as she folded up the map and stood. "Shall I show you where the bathing room is? I was just on my way myself."

The other girl kept up a moderate chatter while they washed. When they came back to the room, it was still empty of other candidates.

"Where is everyone?"

"Visiting with the riders who have been out. You could join them, if you like."

In the middle of a yawn, Morika just shook her head. She was tired, and if Taraline was going to take her to see Balani tomorrow morning, she definitely needed the rest. She also hoped that a full night’s sleep would improve her mental state and banish her growing headache. So she bid Grailse good night, got into bed, and let her exhaustion quiet her racing mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be posting at a slightly increased pace until I catch up to the other posted version. Thank you for reading, and I hope you'll consider leaving a review!


	4. The Ashlands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This piece is written in compliance with Anne McCaffrey's published rules on fan fiction. It is posted here as a transformative work for personal use only, and will be removed if properly requested from the copyright holder. I do not and will not make any profit from this piece, though I hope you all enjoy reading it as I enjoy writing it. I also do not make any claims to rights on this series. Anne McCaffrey and Todd McCaffrey are the owners of the Dragonriders of Pern® series, and I'm grateful for the chance to play on their literary land.

Taraline was waiting when Morika stepped into the living cavern the next morning.

“I’m sorry if I kept you waiting, Weyrwoman,” Morika said, surprised by Taraline’s sudden appearance before she could even sit down.

One of Taraline's eyebrows arched. "You didn't." She reached out and deposited a meat roll in Morika's hand, apparently in lieu of breakfast, as she immediately turned and exited the cavern for the bowl, Morika scrambling after her into the misty dawn. Weak sunlight straggled down, striking ghostly beams in the droplets in the air.

Morika snatched a bite of the meat roll with the feeling that she wouldn't have much time to eat later, then self-consciously gulped the mouthful down when the weyrwoman turned to look at her.

"Mebb wanted you to see Balani before she wakes," Taraline said. The weyrwoman's eyes raked her up and down before she sniffed. Morika had the distinct impression that whatever she'd been looking for, she hadn't found. The weyrwoman was radiating disquiet and skepticism. At Morika's abilities? She pushed harder as she followed Taraline to the Healers' quarters. No, she thought–more like skepticism that anyone could help Balani at all.

The cavern they entered had a double entrance from the bowl, the larger of which could easily accommodate injured dragons. Taraline led her in the more modest entrance and made an abrupt right turn, passing through a quiet, well-lit room of empty cots. Evidently no one was in the healers’ care at the moment.

Their destination was a private room at the end of the hall, set off by a pulled-back curtain. Taraline rapped on the door frame before proceeding in, gesturing for Morika to follow.

The room was small and neat, with a desk and bookcase to one side, and a bed against the far wall. The man sitting at the desk rose at their entrance. For all his height and presence–for he was a tall man–he was also a mysteriously quiet spot in Morika’s awareness, in stark contrast to Taraline’s discomfort.

“Master Healer,” she said. “This is Morika. Please send her to the weyrlingmaster when you’re done with her. Morika, I leave you in the capable hands of Master Healer Mebb. You are to follow his orders explicitly.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, which darted involuntarily to the form sleeping in the bed. Morika followed her gaze, even as Taraline beat a fast retreat back the way they came.

The woman in the bed had the wan, gaunt appearance of someone who has been ill for too long. Spots of blotchy high color decorated her face. Her chapped lips were downturned, grimacing in her sleep. Long, dark hair strayed from an inexpert braid, as if she’d tossed and turned in her sleep.

“Lady Morika,” the healer spoke, his deep voice dragging Morika’s attention back. “Thank you for coming.” His expression was grave.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Master Healer.”

He indicated a chair against the wall, and she sat while he resumed his seat at the desk, facing her.

“I’m told that you’re from Telgar Hold, and trained with the healers there. Indeed, I received word from Master Riste today, commending your talents to us.”

“Thank you, sir. I do hope that I can help.” She also hoped that she didn’t look as nervous as she felt.

“Riste cautioned that your training was limited due to lack of a suitable teacher, and he would have had you sent to the Healer Hall if possible.”

“Yes, sir,” Morika agreed. When he waited for her to continue, she added, “My empathy wasn’t very strong until after the earthquake, and by the time it became clear I needed more training, it seemed more pressing to come to the Weyr.”

“Well, we’ll see what you can do.” His smile was small but encouraging. “I asked for you to be brought early, before Lady Balani wakes. She’s coming out of fellis-induced sleep right now. We’ve had the other empaths in, of course, so we’re not leading completely blind, and we believe this will be the best opportunity for you to get your footing. Pessa will drop by as well, if she can. She’s one of the harpers attached to the weyr, and really the only local empath who can weather the connection.”

Morika blinked at the odd statement, and his grimace. “Sir?”

“We have a few other empaths in the weyr with discernible talent, all riders. They and their dragons were unable to stand the conditions in Balani’s mind.”

Morika abruptly understood, and her expression matched his. “I see.”

“You are shielded right now, I take it?”

“Mostly.”

He nodded and rose, gesturing her over to the bedside.

“Though I have no such talents myself, I have worked with empaths before. Pessa and I have found that it’s best to try to stabilize her before she wakes, when we do allow her to wake. You may try this morning.”

“When you allow her to wake?”

“Most days, it’s a mercy to keep her mostly drugged. We hope that you will have greater strength, and be able to impose some measure of order and stability on her, so that she can be up and about. You may find it a difficult experience, but her mind is not fractured to a degree that you need fear for yourself.”

Morika gulped and sat down on the edge of the bed. She studied the woman for a moment, then reached out and took her hand, took a deep breath, and lowered her shields.

She’d expected a maelstrom, but for a moment, there was nothing at all. However, what she felt wasn’t the quiet, calm order of the healer standing across from her. This was a strange absence of anything at all. She stilled, breathed deeply, closed her eyes, and deepened the contact, dropping her mind towards the woman.

Her mind fell off a mental ledge into quicksand, dragged down, down, down. A spasm of crushing aloneness was the only warning she received before the darkness closed across her.

The fear and loneliness eased away, and Morika found herself in the other woman’s dreams. There was a cold wind and a barren field of ashes that stretched away in all directions, crowned by a sky of drifting smoke. She slowly turned in a circle and spotted the woman stumbling through the ashes, not far from her. She picked her way across the field towards her, the surrealness of her surroundings wavering with the quality of her mental connection. She took a moment to strengthen the connection again before walking into the woman’s sight.

“Hello, Balani.”

Balani looked up at her with red-rimmed eyes, her dark hair picked up and tangled by a dry wind. “Who are you?”

“I’m Morika.”

Morika wasn’t expecting it when the woman sagged in relief and reached out and grabbed her shoulder. “Thank Faranth, you can help me! I keep calling for her, but she doesn’t hear me. I can’t hear her.”

Morika didn’t have much of a baseline for dream discussions with bereaved, mentally unstable people, but this still wasn’t going the way she expected. “I beg your pardon?” She glanced around.

Balani gripped her shoulder harder and turned her, then pointed towards the sky. “There! Do you see her?”

Morika hesitated, then felt a pang when she saw a glint of gold in the billowing smoke in the sky that abruptly vanished.

“Oh…”

“I call and call, and I’ve been chasing her all this time, but she doesn’t hear. She never hears. You’ll help me, won’t you? I need her back, and what will she do if I’m not there to care for her? Oh, we need each other. Why doesn’t she hear me? You’ll help?”

Morika swallowed. “Balani, she’s gone. You know that, don’t you?”

She braced herself for anger, but the other woman just shook her head. “Don’t be stupid. She’s right there. If you won’t help me, so be it. I can’t waste time.” Balani dropped her hand off Morika’s shoulder, and began walking again, trudging away.

“Balani!”

The other woman completely ignored her. Morika tried to follow her, but she couldn’t seem to get any closer to her. She ground her teeth in frustration as the altered physics of the dream world kicked in, so she seemed to get even farther away the more she walked. She was out of favor, and Balani no longer wanted her in the dream. Well, she’d never dealt with a bereaved dragonrider, but this wasn’t the first time she’d pulled someone out of a dream.

Morika braced herself and reconnected with her awareness of her physical body. She briefly considered trying to change the shape of the dream, as she had once for a man recovering from a fellis addiction. She tried for a moment, then felt how strongly rooted the dream was in Balani’s psyche, and gave up the idea. She redirected, looking for Balani’s underlying emotions, and flinched at the reexposure to the pain and loss, the gaping hole where part of the other woman was gone forever. Well, what finesse she lacked for want of training, she made up for in sheer force. She tasted blood in her mouth, a strange counterpoint to the non-physical world she was tying herself into, and wrenched upward, ordering the former weyrwoman’s emotions, calming the sudden rage as she dragged Balani back out and up, towards waking.

It went well right up to the point where their eyes flew open together, and Balani started screaming, the sound deafening in the small room. Morika lunged forward, intercepting the woman when she just about flew out of the bed, and her grasp on the other’s mind abruptly fractured, as if Balani’s consciousness was splintering into a thousand pieces.

“Shards!” There was another woman at their right, grabbing Balani’s shoulders and lending mental strength to Morika while she struggled to calm her. While the older woman held Balani’s shoulders, Morika pressed her hands against the ex-rider’s face, caught in a strange, panicked place in her power where she could physically feel her mental connection to Balani through the contact, and she desperately tried to smooth the cracks in Balani’s reality. Mebb appeared at her right, speaking calming words. Morika wildly noted that his calmness, his sheer lack of empathy, was actually exerting a damping effect on all of them, and Balani began to calm, her awareness reforming under Morika’s shaking hands.

“That’s right, Lady,” the other woman said, shooting Morika a wide-eyed look. Her silver hair was mussed with the brief tussle. Morika let her hands drop from Balani’s face as the other slowly leaned back against the wall, her dark eyes bloodshot and staring, but aware.

“Welcome back, Balani,” Mebb said, his voice soothing. The former rider’s gaze darted to him, then back to Morika.

“How long?” Her voice was a croak, scratchy with screaming.

“You’ve been out for about two weeks this time,” Mebb said. Morika struggled to breathe as she continued to feel the weight of panic and loss seated deep in her own mind.

“I couldn’t wake you anymore, not safely,” the elderly woman said, and a fast glance showed her dressed in Harper blue. Pessa couldn’t wake her for two weeks? That was a nice piece of background info they’d left out.

“Dear Pessa,” Balani coughed. “And who is this?”

“Lady Morika, newly come to Telgar Weyr,” Mebb said, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. “She did well.”

Morika continued trying hard to breathe, and saw the lost look Balani gave her, as if Morika would try to lead her out of the desert that Balani knew she could never leave, and then the look of concern that Pessa gave her, as the other empath surely felt the damage Morika had taken.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Balani,” Morika said, then stumbled out from under Mebb’s hand, out into the hall, and straight into a wall, where she leaned her face against the cold stone and cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this story won't be an angst fest, but this chapter was necessary as Morika encounters Balani for the first time, and we begin to see the loss in the Weyr on a personal level. You might be wondering right now what Morika has gotten herself into, and if she's up to the challenge. Morika is wondering the same thing. We will see how she rises to the occasion.  
> A note on Talents in this story... In attempting to reconcile the Talents and Pern universes, I imagine that, to become a rider, you have to be psychically receptive and sensitive. On a planet like Pern, that would be uncommon but not especially rare. That sensitivity doesn't put you on the T-scale, though you may already be. Impressing a dragon would by necessity put you on that scale of measurable Talent, but because the power is imparted by the dragon, for a majority of riders, they still don't experience telepathic/empathic/kinetic talents independent of their bond with their dragon. Impression might spark an innate Talent, which probably explains some of the rider empaths in the weyr. Others come to the weyr because they already have measurable Talent. A queen rider is probably no weaker than a T-3 or T-4 in Talent terms after Impression, though again, that may be limited to her bond with her dragon. But if a strong one who already had outward-facing Talents Impresses, then loses her mind, what happens? And there we have Balani.   
> Thank you for reading; I hope you're enjoying the story so far!


	5. Starting Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This piece is written in compliance with Anne McCaffrey's published rules on fan fiction. It is posted here as a transformative work for personal use only, and will be removed if properly requested from the copyright holder. I do not and will not make any profit from this piece, though I hope you all enjoy reading it as I enjoy writing it. I also do not make any claims to rights on this series. Anne McCaffrey and Todd McCaffrey are the owners of the Dragonriders of Pern® series, and I'm grateful for the chance to play on their literary land.

Pessa found Morika and escorted her out to the cots, silently bringing her water and placing wet cloths on her forehead and the back of her neck. She said nothing of Morika’s tears or shaking until the girl had calmed down some. She just sat next to her and stared meditatively at the wall.

“Thank you,” Morika whispered. She couldn’t feel anything through her empathy, a small mercy, as she had no desire to touch Balani’s mind down the hall by accident.

Pessa nodded. “We all know. It’s worse the stronger you are. The dragonriders can’t take it at all.”

Morika swallowed again and again, trying fruitlessly to drown a bitter taste that was in her mind instead of her mouth. “I don’t understand.”

The Harper looked down for a moment, and her voice was gentle when she replied. “I’m not reading you, right now, Morika. It's not safe for me to use empathy on you after you've been in Balani's mind. What do you not understand?”

Morika took another long gulp of water. She paused for a long moment. “Why is she still alive? How?” She flinched at the bluntness of her own words, but Pessa seemed unsurprised.

“All of us who have touched her mind know that it would have been a mercy for Balani to have followed Myrlyth, and she was given the choice, as every bereaved dragonrider is. But she chose to stay, and that’s a choice that we also respect. She was the only Telgar queenrider. If she dies, the knowledge and wisdom that Telgar houses will die with her, at a time that we cannot afford it. All the Weyrs have records and knowledge that is unique to them. Someone could catalog the records, try to learn it all, but doing it alone, without guidance, would be the work of Turns, and there would still be verbal knowledge that is lost. Thread is imminent. Balani stayed so that she could pass that knowledge on. She had complete training from her predecessor, Lena, who spent her life gleaning all the information she could in preparation for this time, but did a poor job recording it. It’s information that could save lives both within and outside the Weyr. When Balani’s lucid, she does as much as she can, but Taraline can’t stand her presence, and that slows things immensely.”

“Then why? Why has the Healer Hall not sent someone qualified? Why did anyone think that I could do this with so little training?”

Pessa reached out and readjusted the towel on Morika’s neck. “You’re lacking training, but you have the raw strength that we don’t have in the Weyr right now. And you’re sensitive to dragons. The Hall did send someone immediately after the earthquake, but he couldn’t get a grasp on her mind. We’re still searching for someone else, but it’s clear that Impressed riders can’t be in contact with her mind – and many with talent end up in the Weyr as riders. It’s just a trick of fate. You’re not the best suited to the task, but you’re the best available to us.” There was no sting in her words, just fact.

Morika pressed a hand to her forehead. “So what now?”

“Mebb will help her write down all that she can right now, and give her drugs to help her stay lucid. It’s hard to say how long that will last before the delusions start again, and then she slips out of consciousness.”

“And then we do it again?”

Pessa handed over a fresh towel for her forehead and nodded silently.

Morika shuddered. The feeling creeping in the back of her head was like a nightmare that tugged at the edges of her awareness long after waking, a mental sensation of shadowy fear, loneliness, and madness, a feeling of being adrift in a void. She wanted to get up, walk out, and get her brother to take her home, and never come back to the mad Weyrwoman who wanted to die but couldn’t.

But for the same reason that Balani couldn’t die, Morika couldn’t leave now, not unless they found someone else better able to drag the Weyrwoman back from the brink of insanity. Losing Balani now would mean leaving the Weyr unprepared, asking for resources and help from other Weyrs already swamped with preparing for the advent of Thread. It would mean more dragons dying when Threadfall began, in far too short a time. And it would mean ravaged farmland and holds.

“Can you help me?” Morika whispered.

“I can teach you what I know, and I’ll speak to our empathic riders. We’ll teach you what techniques we have. And I’ll speak to Mebb to see if there’s anything he can do to help you.”

“All right.”

“You’ll stay?”

She blinked at the Harper in surprise. Was there even really a choice? “Of course I’ll stay. This is too important not to do whatever I can.” She thought for a moment. “Though it feels terribly wrong. Poor Balani.”

Pessa’s smile of approval lightened the darkness some. “You should go to the Weyrlingmaster now, if you’re ready.”

Morika removed the towels and stood, testing her legs. Despite her ordeal, she felt physically fine, and the miasma in her mind was receding. “Yes. Where should I go?”

Pessa led her out to the bowl and gave her directions, then caught her by the shoulder. “Morika. I’m sorry that this was our first meeting, but I’m glad to meet you, and you should know that we appreciate whatever you can do for Balani. Losing a queen is a tragedy at the best of times. This is one of the worst possible times, and what Balani is doing is… not a sacrifice that any of us would want to make.”

“Then we’ll make it count,” Morika said, with a confidence she didn’t yet feel. But she smiled at Pessa, and knew that this was as important as answering Search could ever have been. Answering Search just happened to entail a lot more than she’d ever expected.

Her empathy still felt deadened when she reported to the Weyrlingmaster’s office, a sensation like ears ringing from too loud a noise at close range. So she had no insight into the emotionless scrutiny the tall man gave her when she stepped in.

“Sir. I’m Morika. I was told to report to you after working with Master Healer Mebb,” she said, unaccountably nervous.

He raised an eyebrow at her rush of words. “I am aware, candidate. I expected you a candlemark ago.”

It felt unfair to be chastised after what she’d just gone through, and Morika’s cheeks went pink. “Sir, I came as soon as I was dismissed.”

He was silent, watching her carefully, and Morika wondered if she should say something else. Finally, he looked down and picked up a piece of parchment from his desk. “Very well. Tuorth says that you are truthful.” He held the parchment out to her, and Morika stepped forward to take it, still feeling wrong-footed and off-balance. Her inability to read him right now wasn’t helping matters.

The parchment was a table of dates and times with topics next to each one, written in a painstakingly neat script.

“These are the topics the candidates have been covering, and will cover leading up to the Hatching. We are currently on Nutrition. You will need to find notes from the classes you’ve missed from another candidate. Let me know if you are unable to do so. The next class is after lunch, in the small amphitheater. Please be prompt.”

He had already bent back to writing in a thick ledger while Morika stared at him, clutching the schedule to her chest. When she didn’t move, he glanced up again. “Yes, candidate?”

“Sir. Will there be time for me to continue to work with the Master Healer?”

“It’s on your schedule. Dismissed.”

A belated glance at the schedule showed a small star marked periodically through the table, with an explanation at the bottom that read, “Private study with the Master Healer.”

Feeling like an idiot, Morika mumbled a thank you and left. The day really was not starting well. For lack of anything else to do, she wandered out to the lakeshore in the bowl and sat down, relaxing in the sun and trying to re-order herself. She’d need much better emotional control if she was going to survive the next few weeks and be of use to anyone. So she practiced, and the feeling in her empathy slowly returned, ebbing back.

So she wasn’t surprised when H’ralen walked up and sat down next to her. Nor did she bother opening her eyes until he awkwardly cleared his throat.

“Good morning, Morika.”

“Good morning, H’ralen,” she said, finally feeling moderately peaceful.

“How did it go? You saw her?”

“Yes. It… went.”

“Were you able to help her?”

She eyed him narrowly and reached out mentally. Satisfied he wasn’t just looking for gossip, she shrugged a little. “Some. She’s conscious. It was difficult. Can we talk about something else?”

“It’s just about lunch time, actually. Serith saw you out here, and we weren’t sure you knew.”

“I didn’t, actually,” she said, and let him help her to her feet. Together, they walked toward the living cavern. “The Weyrlingmaster said there’s class after lunch.”

“Ha! You met V’tend?”

“Yes?” she said, and it came out like a question. H’ralen clapped her on the back as if she were in on a joke with him.

“He’s not too bad, don’t let him fool you. We always say the old man doesn’t want to get attached to candidates that may not make it to weyrlings, but he’s also not going to get stuck with weyrlings that don’t know the head of a dragonet from the tailfork! He kicked out the last candidate master and took over himself after a weyrling asked him when the antennae would grow in.”

Morika snorted despite herself. They had just walked back into the living cavern, and she was getting the hang of things as she followed him to pick up a tray, then moved towards a table that had already been laid with platters of food.

“Zenna, this is Morika! Morika, this is Zenna, green Loth’s rider,” H’ralen said as they sat down across from a youngish woman. The cavern was slowly filling up, the noise level growing, and other riders began to sit down while H’ralen launched into a story about a holder and an ovine that sounded unlikely, if not physically impossible. Morika was laughing before she knew it, the feelings echoing to her through empathy less overwhelming than yesterday, and surrounded by good-natured tablemates.

Grailse sat down next to her shortly thereafter, and mercifully did not ask about how the morning went, just joined in with the wild stories and ribbing passing around the table while Morika quietly soaked it in, unsure about joining in, but finally feeling at ease.

By the time lunch was finished, she had a fair grasp on the names of several other riders, and she was still smiling as she followed Grailse towards the amphitheater, which proved to be an open-air sunken area with seats cut into stone, leading down to a podium, where the Weyrlingmaster stood at ease, watching every candidate who trickled in with sharp eyes.

Grailse guided her firmly to sit with a mixed group of female and male candidates. “This is Morika,” she said, and sat down, gesturing for Morika to do the same. Morika hurriedly sat, smiling shyly around. There was no time to be put on the spot, because V’tend had already started speaking, his booming voice filling the amphitheater. One of the other candidates passed her a piece of parchment and graphite from a stack someone had set on the bench below them, and Morika whispered thanks, looking up and listening intently.

“I’m glad to see that some of you decided to grace me with your presence on time today. Take mercy on your late classmates, as I will not be repeating any of the material for them. Now, redfruit fed to a young dragon suffering from vitamin deficiencies…”

It was the start of one of many overwhelming days, but Morika knew already that even as she felt nearly every emotion possible in the span of a few candlemarks, that life had expanded in ways she’d never even imagined possible in the hold – filled with challenge, the possibility of pain and failure, and the strange feeling that what she did here might actually matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving forward now. Morika has had a big first day, and there’s a lot more ahead of her. She’s flying blind, and those asking her to help Balani don’t and can’t really fully know yet what they’re asking of her, or what the costs may be. Morika doesn’t know yet either, though she’s had a taste of it, and she knows it won’t be pretty. But she’s not backing down, at least not yet. For now, as long as she’s not in Balani’s presence, she’s trying to think about and feel anything other than what she experienced in the ex-Weyrwoman’s mind. Her job is clear in keeping Balani sane long enough to pass on everything she knows and everything Lena taught her, but how to actually accomplish it…? Maybe not so clear. There will be consequences coming, because Balani is not getting better, and this won’t be sustainable. In the meantime, the threat of Thread looms…  
> Thank you very much for reading, and I hope that you'll consider leaving a review! The coveted spot of FIRST REVIEWER is still open, friends. :D


	6. Alliances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This piece is written in compliance with Anne McCaffrey's published rules on fan fiction. It is posted here as a transformative work for personal use only, and will be removed if properly requested from the copyright holder. I do not and will not make any profit from this piece, though I hope you all enjoy reading it as I enjoy writing it. I also do not make any claims to rights on this series. Anne McCaffrey and Todd McCaffrey are the owners of the Dragonriders of Pern® series, and I'm grateful for the chance to play on their literary land.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of classes, dinner, and work before bed. Now that Morika was truly into her assigned schedule, Headwoman Zella rounded her up with a handful of other candidates and set her to work sorting the records that had been recovered from Telgar Weyr. All of the candidates were given various recovery effort work. If Morika found it mildly ironic that her assigned project was so closely linked to the goal of her task with Balani, she kept it to herself and sorted salvaged records until her eyes stung in the poor light.

It was with a sense of relief that her head hit her pillow that night. Her senses had finally fully recovered, which was a relief. Though her blunted empathy after working with Balani had been a blessing while in close quarters with a large number of people earlier, it was still a disconcerting sensation, and she was also determined to practice managing it better. For now, though, she collapsed with true exhaustion and slipped straight to sleep.

The nightmares woke her just before dawn, and she woke gasping and choking as if she'd been drowning. For long moments, she lay still, gasping in deep breaths and staring at the dark ceiling, listening to the quiet breathing of the other girls. Her fingers twitched, and she slowly released the blankets she'd been clutching, her hands throbbing, crescent moons of pain bright on her palms where her nails had dug in. When sleep refused to return, she decided that she'd had enough sleep anyway and swung her legs to the floor, fumbled for the clothing she'd laid at the foot of the bed, and then stumbled out into the lit hallways. She stopped in the bathing room to wash up and dress, then found her way out into the predawn chill in the bowl.

She leaned against the rock wall and crossed her arms against the cold, looking around. The ruddiness growing in the sky lightly painted the rocky bowl with shadows and a pale, rosy glow. Birds sang nearby, the sound bouncing in the relative emptiness. At the top of the bowl, the evergreen trees were already picked with golden light, though the waterfall at the far end of the valley, just in sight, still poured down in darkness, a dull and steady roar underlining the birds' descant.

Slowly, Morika stretched out with her empathy in a controlled reach. There were workers in the living cavern preparing the morning meal. In the healers' quarters, her mind skipped across Balani, sleeping quietly, but still relatively well. She didn't allow herself to dwell there. Mebb was a faint pool of calm, already awake and working. Morika's mind quested back out. Kesseth was a bright sleeping spark in her mind, stationed at the entrance to the hatching cavern. A watch dragon – a bronze this time – was perched atop the rocky crag behind her. Riders were beginning to stir in their weyrs. A young green and her rider were entering the lake together for an early bath, and Morika felt their convulsive shiver at the cold water's clutch as if it were her own. She took a deep breath and broadened her scope, brushing across dozens of minds at once, then gathered herself back in a measured return. She stretched onto her toes and smiled, pleased at her own success. Her own stomach growling told her that the exercise had been more than mental, and she walked to the living cavern.

There was a little food set out already for early risers, and Morika grabbed some fruit, bread, and cheese before glancing around. Her eyes fell on a blue rider watching her from near the fire, and when he saw her looking, he raised a hand. Curious, she walked over.

"Good morning," he said. "You're Morika?"

"Yes, that's me," she said, sitting when he gestured at the chair across from his. "Good morning."

"I'm A'ton," he said. "Wessith's rider. Pessa told me to flag you down if I could. I felt you stretching this morning." His smile was warm, his eyes crinkling, and she suddenly understood.

"Oh! You're one of the other empaths?"

"I am indeed. Well met. Pessa and I will work with you on shielding and grounding. I spoke to Mebb last night, and he said that that would be helpful for you."

Morika nodded so hard that she hurt her neck. "Yes! Yes, please. When?"

"During your scheduled sessions with Mebb. Balani won't need you every day. We'll work with you in the interim. Green Brynth's rider, Fay, is your other teacher volunteer. She's stronger than either of us and can work on finesse and technique with you. We have a few other empaths wandering about, but no one in a good position to teach you. Telepaths… well, you don't need that right now, though you're welcome to try speaking to dragons. No talent for telekinesis?"

She blinked at the sudden question. "Telekinesis?"

He turned his eyes to her plate, and she jumped when her split bread roll suddenly opened and laid itself flat before her.

"Oh," she said faintly. "I've never seen that before."

"It's not as common, nor as useful, in my opinion. Unless you're desperate to move the bread around on your plate without touching it." He laughed. "I'm glad you're not dealing with it. We definitely don't have anyone here able to teach you much on that front. It doesn't seem to go hand in hand with a sensitivity to dragons the way the others do."

Morika picked up her bread when he resumed eating, and tried not to look like she was surreptitiously examining it before she bit into it.

"I'm told that you'll be with Mebb or us in the mornings before lunch," he continued around a mouthful of food. "You won't be missing anything. All the candidates have some type of individual study at that time. Bit of an odd time for a candidate class. Not enough resources to devote to full classes. But it works well for our purposes."

"I'm glad to have a chance to learn more," Morika said truthfully.

"You are a bit thrown into the fire, aren't you?" He said, picking up on what she hadn't said. "Not sure what they were thinking. If you Impress, you can't very well continue working with her, can you? Going to get another candidate down to help out. That way we can have some continuity, one way or another. Unless you both Impress. Not sure, then!"

Morika followed along as best as she could. He talked fast, and she leaned on her empathy to pick up shades of meaning he wasn't voicing – though he didn't seem to be holding back much. "Who else is going to help?"

"Zella's girl. The niece. What's her name."

"Grailse?" Morika asked, surprised at her own luck.

"That's the one. Others weren't willing, given the circumstances. Hasn't ever stopped V'tend from giving orders about what needs to be done, but throwing an unwilling body into the mix with a dragonless weyrwoman seemed ill-considered at best. She said she'd do it. Not surprised, Zella fostered her, and she never did raise fools. Almost done eating?"

Morika nodded, quickly finishing what was on her plate. "Are we starting now?"

"No time like the present! Let's head outside."

Morika briefly regretted that she wouldn't have a chance to see her brother at breakfast, but followed the blue rider outside. He greeted everyone they walked past by name, worker, rider, and support staff alike, giving Morika the impression that he might actually know everyone in the Weyr. Meanwhile, he continued chatting about anything and everything, right up until they stood in the middle of the bowl, and he squinted around in the brightening morning light, then pointed to a rock.

"Go have a seat on that."

She followed his order, and looked up as a blue dragon swooped down to join them.

"This is Wessith," he said, slapping a hand against the blue's neck. Morika bowed her head from her seat.

"Good morning, Wessith. My duty to you."

_Hello. It's nice to meet you._

At any other point, Morika would have been surprised for a strange dragon to just begin speaking to her, but from this man's dragon, it really didn't like that big of a shock.

"Wessith will help me concentrate so I can feel what you're doing. Gets a little difficult when there are so many people around, you know! Then again, there's the point, so it is. Let's start with raising some shields, shall we?"

He put her through her paces of shielding and controlled reading, and she understood quickly why he'd brought her out into the bowl at mid-morning. The human and dragon traffic across the bowl was high, and not only was there a lot to shield from, he was able to have her touch on specific moving targets, either reading them or just tracking them. Wessith maintained a gentle touch on her mind the whole time, and as Morika's mind warmed up, she realized that it was because A'ton was not a very powerful empath at all. But he did have a degree of mental precision that was admirable. Wessith relayed back to him whatever he couldn't feel on his own about Morika's actions.

By the time Pessa walked up about a candlemark later, Morika actually felt winded with mental effort. She had no trouble identifying the Harper without opening her eyes, though.

"Good morning, Pessa."

"Morika. A'ton. Wessith. It's going well?"

Morika opened her eyes at that and looked at A'ton curiously.

"The healers taught her something, it looks like! Needs practice. Gained too much strength all at once," A'ton said bluntly. "But she's got plenty of talent, and I think she'll learn it just fine. Has a fine natural grasp. Practice, practice, practice. And not too much disturbance." For the first time, his tone darkened, and the whole group glanced towards the healers' cavern, then quickly away, not meeting each other's eyes.

"The Weyr's needs must be met," was all that Pessa said. She reached out and absently scratched at Wessith's eye ridge. The blue dragon closed the inner membrane of his eye and leaned down, thrumming in pleasure. "You're shameless," the older woman informed him without stopping.

"Isn't that the truth," A'ton said, shaking his head. "Well, Morika, I'm pleased with your progress this morning, and I'll tell V'tend as much. I believe that Pessa needs your charming presence now?"

"Your presence is required. Whether you choose to be charming or not is at your discretion," the Harper said with a faint smile.

Morika stood and stretched, cracking her back. "Thank you, A'ton. I'll see you again tomorrow morning?"

"That's right, you will. Off you go. We need to prepare for drills now."

"Thank you Wessith," Morika added, and impulsively reached out to also scratch the blue's eyeridge. He projected a warm sense of approval and pleasure at her, then blinked his eyes open and backed up, looking to his rider. They split, with A'ton and Wessith headed off in one direction, and Pessa walking with Morika back to the records room she'd been working in last night.

"It did go well?" Pessa asked her while they walked.

"I thought it did, yes. He's very practiced. He was able to give me a lot of pointers on where my form could be better. But he's right that I need practice."

"He's not a terribly strong empath, but he was well trained. He's one of the Weyr's Search riders. Fay is likely closer in strength to where you were before the earthquake, if I've assessed correctly from what B'lor told us before you arrived."

Morika hesitated. "It seems like there was a lot of discussion about… well, me."

"Some," Pessa agreed, picking up a glowbasket as they turned down the hallway towards the records room. "We've been in a tough position since the earthquake, and you're a valuable resource. Why waste your time, ours, and Balani's by being ill-prepared?"

There was already a light on in the records room when they walked in, and Grailse was sitting at a table. She made to hide her plate of breakfast, then saw who it was.

"Ah, good morning, Pessa, Morika!"

"Hi, Grailse."

"You could have finished eating in the living cavern," Pessa said.

"I didn't want to hold you up."

"Admirable," Pessa said dryly, her mouth quirking with amusement. She took a seat, and Morika followed. "Since you are here now, we might as well get started." She paused for a moment, seeming to order her thoughts, then began. "Morika, Mebb and I had hoped for better results yesterday, but we were also unsurprised. The important part is that you brought Balani back, and I'm confident that you can do it again, especially with further training as you learn to use your new strength."

"Yes," Morika agreed. Her thoughts raced. She'd flinched a little at the idea of bringing Balani to consciousness again, let alone multiple times, but even as she tensed, she knew that she'd make herself equal to the task. "I'll manage."

"But you suffered damage the first time." Pessa looked at her expectantly.

"I… did. I'm not sure how much I can be around her right after that, if it's going to be like that every time."

"That's where I come in," Grailse said. "The Search dragons call me receptive, but I'm not actually an empath or a telepath."

Pessa nodded. "Grailse will work with you. When you leave after waking Balani, Grailse will help Mebb note down everything that Balani can give them. She'll bring the notes to you, and the two of you will work on compiling a compendium of the most useful information, as well as attempt to pinpoint which records were lost in the earthquake."

Morika exhaled a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "That sounds reasonable."

"In addition, one of the things that Fay will attempt to teach you is how to skim surface thoughts. Whatever you can get directly from Balani, it will be your responsibility to record as soon as you leave her."

That sounded more complicated, but Morika was newly determined. Her success with training this morning had bolstered her confidence. "All right."

Pessa smiled at both her and Grailse. "Grailse, you brought what Mebb had ready to start on?"

Grailse swallowed a mouthful of redfruit. "Mmhmm. It's the records that he had Brent working on, plus what he got yesterday after Balani woke up."

"Very good. Then I'll leave you two to it. This will be your job until lunch. I'll see you later."

Morika looked past Grailse and realized that the records in question were two stacks of misaligned parchments and ledgers each about as high as her knee. Her eyebrows shot up. This was as bad as anything the steward at the hold had ever saddled her with.

Grailse saw where she was looking and smiled ruefully. "Redfruit?" she offered, pushing the plate towards Morika while she lifted each stack and slapped it down on the table between them. Morika peered around the parchment at her.

"Well, I would have!"

Grailse threw a fruit over the stack at her and laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the first chapter I wrote after actually plotting out the rest of the story, for which I have to thank my best friend. She let me give her a multi-hour crash course in Pern so that she could help me plot out this beast. She's the best!   
> We see more exploration of Talents on Pern this chapter. You won't find any gestalt or Tower Talents here. I imagine that telekinetics would be the rarest Talent manifestation by far on Pern, and the first to die out. Empathy and telepathy would blend in better and be something of a survival advantage, but even in a world with telepathic dragons, as Pern's technology devolved, I think telekinesis would be seen with suspicion and fear. I imagine it would be unlikely to be passed on or developed beyond simple parlor tricks—like lifting bread. Maybe in the far future, in the Skies of Pern era, something like that could revive.


	7. Grailse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This piece is written in compliance with Anne McCaffrey's published rules on fan fiction. It is posted here as a transformative work for personal use only, and will be removed if properly requested from the copyright holder. I do not and will not make any profit from this piece, though I hope you all enjoy reading it as I enjoy writing it. I also do not make any claims to rights on this series. Anne McCaffrey and Todd McCaffrey are the owners of the Dragonriders of Pern® series, and I'm grateful for the chance to play on their literary land.

The water in the bowl's lake was a turbulent blue, dashed to rushing by the waterfall at the far end, and decorated with swathes of drifting mist. It was a far cry from the calm, limpid waters of the original Telgar Weyr's lake. Grailse didn't let herself think about old Telgar much, but sometimes it seemed impossible not to dwell at least a little on the home where she grew up. A weyrchild, especially one with dragonrider parents, tended to have many caretakers and a lot of extended family, with change inevitable over time, but the Weyr itself remained a steady, constant home. Except that Telgar was gone, and Grailse was here, in this evergreen-draped almost-Weyr.

She tried again to skip a rock into the lake and failed, huffing in irritation. Telgar Weyr was gone, and yet it remained, living on in its displaced inhabitants. Grailse abandoned her skipping stones, dipped to pick up her basket full of the edible water plants she'd gathered, and began walking back towards the main living caverns. The cook was surprised when she swept in and dropped the basket on one of the open counters.

"Did Brant ask for those?"

"No, I just thought you could use them."

The cook shrugged. "No reason we can't, but if you're looking for useful work, I've no doubt that the Weyrlingmaster can give you something to do. Get on with you, Grailse. I think your aunt was looking for you."

Her aunt was looking for her? Grailse snatched up a bubbly pie on her way out of the kitchen, eating it while she walked towards Zella's office. Eating while in transit was a useful skill when you burned stress by getting things done.

When she entered the outer room, she glanced around curiously at the changes that had taken place since the last time she'd been by. The bookshelves were more ordered, the desk stacked higher with papers, and the hearth finally properly arranged, with a fire banishing the pervasive damp. The room that had once been the Weyr outpost's storage for dry goods was finally beginning to look like a headwoman's office, all while Grailse was monopolized by other tasks, large and small, that took her away from her aunt's exacting eye.

The one thing missing from her aunt's office was her actual aunt. A quick glance in the living quarters beyond showed a tidily kept room, but nothing more. Grailse hesitated by the fire, looking at a few small portraits set on one of the bookshelves. An infant Grailse smiled back at her, held by a young man wearing the knots of a bronze rider. Grailse touched it lightly, then turned to leave.

"Are you not quite competent enough to handle this without troubling me, weyrwoman?"

Grailse would have been surprised to hear her aunt's raised voice if "weyrwoman" hadn't been tacked on the end. As it was, her jaw tightened, and she watched as Zella stomped into the room, followed by Taraline sweeping in behind her. Both women glanced at Grailse, then their eyes flicked past her in dismissal and locked back on each other. In this case at least, Grailse was scenery, her discretion trusted implicitly, even by the Benden weyrwoman.

"I'm more than competent, Headwoman Zella," Taraline snapped. "But I've found the Weyr given into my care to be less than cooperative on some points!"

"As the Weyr has found you less than satisfactory on others!"

Taraline straightened, her face abruptly turning stony. Her response was clipped. "See that someone brings me the relevant records. I won't ask again." Her eyes tracked across Grailse and away, avoiding meeting her gaze, and after an awkward pause, she turned and left, jerking the door behind her, only to bring it closed with a deceptively gentle click.

Zella inhaled deeply for a moment before turning to Grailse. "Grailse. You won't speak of this."

Grailse mutely shook her head.

"Good girl. Did you need something?"

"Wilne said you were looking for me."

"Yes, I was. Thank you for coming by." She gave her a smile and moved towards the desk, consulting a small folio for a moment. "Vinesprings Hold has requested aid from the Weyr."

Grailse racked her brain for their new geography and came up with a small hold situated about halfway between the old Weyr and the new one.

"What for?"

"Rebuilding efforts. They suffered a fair amount of damage during the earthquake. V'tend will be sending the candidates for a day or two with a couple of wings. He requested some organizational help. Can you take care of organizing supplies? It's the standard fare. Non-perishable goods, Healer supplies, odds and ends for building and repairs, surplus clothing."

"Yes, of course. I'll check with V'tend on timing."

"Thank you, m'girl. You've been invaluable. I don't know what I'll do after Hatching."

"Oh, Zella. You don't know…"

"If not this one, another," Zella replied firmly, reaching out and pulling her into a tight hug. "You were always dragon-touched, same as your da." Grailse's arms tightened for a moment, then she made herself relax.

They hugged for a moment, then Zella let her go and waved her out of the office. "And remember, not a word about what you heard before."

"I would never."

And Grailse wouldn't. She wasn't very fond of Taraline either, but nothing good could come of encouraging discontent around their temporary weyrwoman. Some transfers never quite settled in, but it still seemed passingly odd that the gold rider and her queen were looked upon with such suspicion. A weyr had to have a queen, its living heart, and in the void left by Myrlyth, the dragons at least should have gravitated towards Kesseth quickly. But the discord lingered. And while Zella and Taraline kept their distaste for each other behind closed doors, they seemed to respect each other less by the day.

Grailse nearly ran straight into Morika near the sleeping chambers. She blinked, taken aback. The other girl was wide-eyed and staring, and Grailse took in her expression, the plait in her hair half undone, and grasped her arm, turning her around and walking her back to one of the cots. No one else was around. She pushed on her shoulders until the holder girl sat, then fetched her some water, mentally rearranging her schedule. Supplies would have to wait.

"Morika, whatever happened to you?"

"Oh. A'ton introduced me to Fay, and Fay worked with me, then they needed help with the W-weyrwoman." Morika's eyes sank closed briefly. "I'll be okay, really. It took me a little bit the past couple of times, too."

She certainly didn't look like she was going to be okay. Grailse chewed on her lip for a moment, then sat down next to Morika. Morika had worked with Balani a couple of times since Grailse had been assigned to help with records, but she had never seen the empath in the immediate aftermath. "I didn't know you were working with her today. I wasn't down there to take down records."

"I don't think I was supposed to work with her today. Mebb said that she was bothering the dragons. Kesseth was nearly beside herself."

"Bothering the dragons?" That was a new development.

"They could feel her. She kept asking them where Myrlyth was. Why they wouldn't help her." Morika waved one shaking hand through the air. "I…" She paused, closing her eyes again. "I had to shut her down."

Grailse stiffened. "What?"

"Fay had to show me how, and Pessa had to join to my mind. We had to… to blunt her, so she couldn't reach out to the dragons. Close her in a loop, a wall, like the reverse of a shield. And then Mebb gave her something to help her sleep."

Grailse digested that for a moment. The fine hairs on her arms were standing on end. She debated what to say and found herself unexpectedly at a loss.

Morika rubbed her eyes with one hand, then drank some more water. "Thank you for this. It's hard to come out of it. I never worked with a patient as powerful as she is, and what I'm doing feels wrong, like I'm hurting her instead of helping her."

The silence stretched for a moment while Grailse's mind raced. Finally, she ventured, "So no records tomorrow morning?" and cursed herself for how it sounded.

But Morika didn't seem offended. "No, I think she's going to have to sleep for a bit. I guess we can catch up on the records we have so far."

Grailse rallied. "We do have plenty of those." She smiled encouragingly, and Morika managed a smile back. "When's the last time you saw your brother?"

The lightening in Morika's eyes seemed to herald the girl coming out of the worst haze from her encounter with Balani. "Not in a bit."

"Well, then why don't we go find him?"

If either of them knew that the other also felt the same uneasy sense of foreboding about the struggles with Balani, neither voiced it aloud. Morika, for her part, was quiet, but seemed to be more alert. Grailse was thinking quickly over the sessions she had had taking dictation from Balani since Morika had woken her, and feeling something troubling that she couldn't put a finger on. But she certainly wasn't going to say anything now, with the reserved holder girl burning her talents to mental exhaustion to bring Balani's extremes under control.

They found B'lor with H'ralen, the two working on riding straps in one of the main workrooms. The scent of oil and fine leather permeated the air. A few other riders were stationed around the room, either singly or in pairs, with a low chatter rising and falling.

"Lo!" H'ralen said, spotting them first as they walked over. "Extra hands to help us!"

B'lor looked up and grinned, then motioned for Morika and Grailse to sit on the bench across from them. "Probably too much to hope that V'tend sent you down here to do this for us?"

Grailse snorted. "You would trust candidates with your riding straps?"

H'ralen made a show of sliding his work away from them.

"Perhaps not," B'lor said. "Sister dear, hand me that jar." He indicated a jar full of wax, which Morika passed over to him.

"The Weyrlingmaster does seem to keep everyone busy enough, it wouldn't be that big a surprise," she ventured.

"Ha! Of course he keeps you all busy," H'ralen said.

B'lor shook the jar at his sister. "If candidates had half a chance to think about the fact that they left everything they knew behind to show up at a Weyr they've never been to, to try to Impress a dragon and take up an occupation that involves risking their lives, most of them would go home within two days. So better to keep them busy!"

"Besides," H'ralen mused. "Candidates are cheap labor."

Morika surprised them all by playfully chucking a rag at H'ralen, which landed across his face. A muffled, "Harsh," came out before it slid back off, and the girls giggled.

"Speaking of cheap labor," Grailse said. "I hear we're going to Vinesprings Hold."

"You heard right," B'lor said. "Our wing is going, too. So it would be to your benefit to help us with these riding straps."

He raised an eyebrow at them, and the two candidates moved closer and began to pay attention. Not all their lessons were overseen by the Weyrlingmaster, and even for Grailse, weyrbrat that she was, there were still things that had to be learned from scratch. She glanced from the two riders to Morika and filed a thought away for further consideration, then turned her attention back. She had a few things to mull over, but for now, H'ralen was filling her hands with a pile of cracked riding leathers and a jar of oil. For now, there was work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for a new viewpoint! Welcome to Grailse's point of view. We'll hear from her a few more times before this story ends. Definitely some plot points building in this chapter. Also a small joke... candidates really are the interns of the Pernese world, and I had a hard time not titling the chapter to that effect. Cheap labor! Brew some klah! Impress your superiors (or a dragon)!   
> Thank you very much for reading, and a special shoutout to plainbay, who was my first AO3 reviewer in six chapters!   
> Fair warning that we're nearly caught up with the chapters I've already written, and then updates will taper off to accommodate writing time (and my day job).


	8. Viewing the Eggs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This piece is written in compliance with Anne McCaffrey's published rules on fan fiction. It is posted here as a transformative work for personal use only, and will be removed if properly requested from the copyright holder. I do not and will not make any profit from this piece, though I hope you all enjoy reading it as I enjoy writing it. I also do not make any claims to rights on this series. Anne McCaffrey and Todd McCaffrey are the owners of the Dragonriders of Pern® series, and I'm grateful for the chance to play on their literary land.

The morning was cold, and Morika was already tiring of the ubiquitous fog after only a sevenday in the weyr. It rolled over the stone steps in the amphitheater like a living, breathing thing. She wondered what Thread looked like in comparison, then shuddered at the stray thought.

“Is he here yet?”

Rylon, one of the younger male candidates, skipped down the two steps above Morika and dropped breathlessly into the open space next to her.

“No, you made it in time.”

“Shards, I thought I was going to be late on Viewing day. V’tend would’ve skinned me.”

Grailse leaned around Morika’s other side. “Why were you late?”

“Anfer and Marcsen got in a fight!”

“What about?”

“Caretti again, and she won’t even give them the time of day.” All three of them looked reflexively to the right, at the pretty brunette sitting by herself, who obviously hadn’t been directly involved in the fight in her name. Rylon almost visibly dismissed her for more interesting matters. “I think Marcsen might have broken Anfer’s nose!” He sounded as excited about that as any fourteen-Turn-old boy was likely to be, and Grailse rolled her eyes.

 “They’re not going to be allowed to Stand if they keep that up.”

“But there are hardly enough candidates.” That was Sarilla, craning her head back from the seat below them.

“Doesn’t matter. They’ll ask the other Weyrs for candidates if they have to, rather than have any other mistakes.”

Morika opened her mouth, about to ask what she meant, when V’tend started down the center stairs. There was a man following him, and Morika sucked in a breath, clamping down on her empathy. She didn’t need her sensitivity to tell her about the man’s loss, anger, and temper, though. All three were written clearly on his face.

Grailse touched her arm and leaned in, breathing in her ear once they were past and descending to the podium. “That’s N’tag. He was the Weyrleader.”

“Was?” she whispered back.

“He stepped down.”    

V’tend cleared his throat as if asking for attention, but the candidates scattered through the amphitheater were already silent. The bronze rider at his side stood at ease, hands behind his back, his eyes roving over all of them.

“Candidates. I’ll keep this brief. Today is the last Viewing for the eggs. For some of you, it is also your first. The Viewing gives the forming dragonets a chance to feel the candidates they’ll be presented with at the Hatching a few days from now. Our hope is that this makes for a faster and safer Hatching, with more assured pairings. You will move among the eggs. You may speak to them and gently touch them. I should not need to tell you to be on your best behavior, but I will.” He paused, assessing them. They were still silent. “For those of you unfamiliar with him, this is bronze rider N’tag, Vranth’s rider. Vranth is the sire of this clutch.”

N’tag stepped forward and cleared his throat. He attempted a small smile, which only helped his severe expression marginally. “Candidates. Within the next sevenday, 21 of you will have joined the ranks of Telgar’s dragonriders. V’tend assures me that all of you have the potential to make fine riders. Good luck to all of you.”

Without waiting for V’tend to say anything else, he turned and departed through the amphitheater’s lower exit.

“Right,” V’tend said, apparently unfazed by his short speech and abrupt departure. “After the Viewing, most of you will be heading out with the Third and Fifth Flights to Vinespring Hold for the day. If I haven’t spoken to you about remaining behind for a task today, assume you are going to make yourself useful at the hold under the direction of the wingleaders.”

They were still all staring at him, caught in the uneasy wake of the ex-Weyrleader’s visit and the nervousness of the Viewing.

Morika felt Tuorth brush lightly across her mind, and relaxed the death grip she’d been holding on her shields. She sensed him mentally touch several others, then withdraw. The group seemed to collectively start breathing again.

“Come along,” V’tend said, and everyone scrambled to their feet to follow him. 

The fog in the weyrbowl was burning off with the sun getting higher into the sky, and the traffic in the weyr had increased. Riders and weyrfolk alike seemed to know where the group of candidates was headed, throwing them knowing smiles and cheerful greetings. By the time they reached the Hatching Cavern, the only candidates who didn’t seem to be in better spirits were Anfer and Marcsen, who had joined them looking the worse for wear and received a withering glare from V’tend.

V’tend stopped them just outside the entrance to the cavern. “Pay your respects to Lady Taraline and her queen. Then move among the eggs.”

Morika tried to peer past him, but the wide tunnel inside turned a sharp corner that she couldn’t see around. Nerves prickled at her again, and minding the warnings she’d been given, she checked in on her mental projections, smoothing out rough edges and looking for any hint of negative influence from Balani. Everything looked okay, and Fay and Pessa had also checked her over yesterday. She hadn’t seen Balani at all yesterday in preparation for today’s Viewing.

Grailse had to poke her in the back to get her attention. With a start, she realized that the candidates were filing in, and hurried to take her place in line. Stone underfoot gave way to deepening sand, and cool sand gave way to increasingly hot sand.

“Aren’t you glad I told you to wear the thick boots?” Grailse teased from behind her when the sand reaching an almost burning level.

“Mmm!” Morika squeaked out.

“Don’t be nervous.”

“Too late.”

They emerged in the Hatching Cavern, which was as grand as the name suggested. Soaring ceilings were lit by both myriad glow baskets and sunlight streaming through huge openings in the stone at the top of the walls, wide enough for a dragon to fly through. Large ledges spotted the upper area for dragons, and stands for humans spectators were built around the outer edges of the ground level.

Long ago, in the depths of the last Pass, when all the weyrs were at the height of their strength, New Telgar had been an outpost weyr to accommodate high population numbers and relieve the strain of too many queens in a given weyr. When the population dropped off during the Interval, as it normally did, the outpost was gladly abandoned as being remote and perpetually damp. But its readymade nature had saved Telgar in its time of need, and its remaining clutch from final disaster.

And there… there was the clutch. Fourteen eggs of varying sizes and colors were nestled in the center of the Hatching Grounds, each one carefully cradled in the sand. Some were cream and speckled, others swirled with pale patterns of browns, russets, blues, and greens. All were much larger than Morika had expected.

Behind them was something larger yet. Kesseth loomed just behind the clutch, a massive bulk of golden dragon and jeweled eyes whirling with interest. The golden queen egg was set aside, just next to her, larger than the others with a muted but definite gold sheen.

The reality of her situation set in, and Morika was fairly certain that her feet had grown roots and planted her where she stood, all while her lungs decided to stop working. It was the only explanation for her sudden paralysis while her mind struggled to process what she was seeing, what it meant, and the audacity of what she’d left her Telgar Hold to try to do. The eggs were huge, holding baby dragons that would Impress to a partner with a life-changing mental bond, and completely change their life path until death. And Thread was coming. Thread was coming, and there were baby dragons in those eggs, which took up all of Morika’s suddenly narrow vision.

“Welcome, candidates.”

She jolted back to the present. Several candidates jumped a little.

Weyrwoman Taraline was standing to their left, looking amused. “Surely it’s not your first time seeing dragon eggs?”

Candidates either hastily shook their heads or nodded them, still looking bemused.

“I think the reality is setting in, Weyrwoman,” V’tend rumbled.

“I see. Well, every hatchling will need its rider. I trust the Weyrlingmaster has spoken to you all about the purpose of the Viewing. Kesseth isn’t broody, but she has a vested interest in this clutch, so I suggest you be respectful, or be removed. You won’t enjoy the process or results of that.”

More nodding.

“File up, introduce yourself to me, and then off you go.” She gestured towards the eggs. “Come on now, let’s be efficient. Kesseth and the eggs may not be going anywhere, but we do all have other tasks to do today.”

People began to move, walking up to the weyrwoman, murmuring a greeting and introduction, then crossing the sands to the eggs.

Taraline’s gaze was piercing when Morika stopped in front of her.

“Weyrwoman, I’m Morika –”

“Yes, I remember. You were cleared to be here today?”

“Yes Weyrwoman, by Pessa and Green Rider Fay.”

She nodded. “We’ll have another check-in before the Hatching itself. Thank you for your service to the weyr, Morika. Good luck, candidate,” she finished formally, and gestured for Morika to continue.

Morika spun to face the eggs and started walking before she could lose her nerve.

 _Empath_. The word rang in her head, the timbre like Taraline’s voice heard through a tunnel, and she jerked to a halt two feet away from the closest egg.

“My duty to you, Kesseth,” she said, swiftly bowing and mortified that she’d forgotten. She looked up to find Kesseth’s eyes whirling blue with amusement before the queen turned her attention to the next candidate behind her.

Plucking up her courage, she quickly put out a hand to the cream-colored egg before her and ghosted her fingertips across it. The surface felt like a cross between glass, shale, and very hard leather, wholly unique in her experience. And just below the surface, she could feel a drowsy consciousness, still too remote and alien for her to really touch. It was completely impossible to tell what color or even sex the dragonet was. She breathed out and touched the egg again, then moved on to the next, dropping her shields enough that any dragonets inside should be able to feel her.

Other candidates moved amongst the clutch, touching an egg here, stopping before one there. Some stood before one egg nearly the whole time, as if hoping their continued presence could influence the dragonet inside, while others moved methodically through the clutch, trying to walk past all of the eggs. All the women and girls, though, were gravitating at varying speeds across to the far side, where the queen egg sat before Kesseth.

Morika was drawn to it as if by a lodestone, even as she worked through the other eggs. She came to a halt next to Grailse, who was staring at the queen egg with an inscrutable expression. As more girls gathered, Kesseth shifted backwards, tacitly giving them permission to approach more closely.

Elivia, Searched out of Crom Hold and arrived only a day or two before Morika, was the first to walk up and boldly touch the egg. She stroked it for a few seconds, then stepped back and looked questioningly at the others.

Morika listened curiously with her mind, and found the queen dragonet slightly easier to feel than the others, her contentment tinged with discomfort at an increasingly restrictive shell. Her infant mind touched at the girls before her, seemed to assess those who touched her shell.

 _Carefully, empath_ , Kesseth said, and gently pushed back on Morika’s mind when she approached. Morika, abashed, pulled herself back into her mental space while she reached out and laid a reverent hand on the egg. She didn’t dare reach out mentally after Kesseth’s mild rebuke, but she could still feel the queen touch at her curiously. Gulping, she dropped her hand and stepped back, feeling dazed.

Grailse was next, putting both hands to the shell and closing her eyes for a long moment before she stepped back and joined Morika. Of an accord, they moved back amongst the clutch together, saying nothing.

V’tend was at the entrance to the Hatching Cavern, speaking to Taraline, and glanced over when he seemed to sense that the candidates were finishing up. He nodded to Taraline, then began to gesture the candidates back out towards the bowl.

“Morika, a moment?” Taraline said in a low voice as she passed, and Morika stepped aside from the other candidates, suspecting she knew what the question would be.

“Weyrwoman?”

Taraline looked past her towards her queen, seeming to speak for a moment, then refocused. “Did you feel anything wrong with the eggs?”

“No, Weyrwoman.” Her voice was quiet but sure.

“Good. Thank you.” She nodded in clear dismissal, and began to cross the sands to her dragon while Morika caught up with the last candidates.

“That was amazing!” she told Grailse, catching up with her.

Grailse smiled. “It was, actually.”

“And now Vinesprings Hold, right?”

“I’m staying here to help with records, but yes for you. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Oh!” Morika said. “Well yes, I guess so. Good luck. Are you working with Balani?”

Grailse sighed as they emerged in the bowl. “Yes. It’ll be fine. Go be helpful.” She gave Morika a one-armed hug, then pushed her in the direction of the Weyrlingmaster.

V’tend was briskly sending candidates to waiting riders and their dragons who had assembled while they were on the Hatching Grounds.

“Morika, H’ralen requested to take you, and I saw no reason to tax myself arguing with him.” He handed her a wherhide jacket from a pile on the ground next to him. “Put that on. You’re answering to his wingleader, Q’rald. The Healers will want your services today. Take care not to drain yourself.”

“Yes, sir,” she said obediently, and looked around for Serith, finding him and his rider on the edge of the Fifth Wing. She waved to her brother when she passed him, who was helping one of the male candidates strap in to the riding straps. He waved back, and she could have sworn she saw him roll his eyes when he saw where she was headed.

Serith rumbled a greeting to her when she walked up, and H’ralen grinned. “Up you go, no time to waste,” he said, immediately helping her up onto the large brown dragon’s neck. “How were the eggs?” he asked, climbing up behind her and efficiently doing up the riding straps.

“Amazing,” she said, unable to come up with a different word.

“Just wait until Hatching,” he said, and Serith sent wordless agreement. “Ready?”

“Sure,” she agreed, glancing around as other dragons began to take flight.

“Hold on, then,” he said, and she obediently tightened her grip before Serith rocked back on his haunches and sprang into the air with a powerful downstroke of his wings. She gasped despite herself at the brown’s precipitous takeoff.

“He’s showing off!” H’ralen shouted, and she laughed breathlessly while they climbed.

 _We’re going_ between _now_ , Serith warned, and Morika had just a moment to wonder at the fact that she was hearing dragons much more clearly now. And then they blinked into the cold oblivion of _between_ , long seconds spent in utter blackness while her heart thudded and she found she’d forgotten her question entirely.

The burst back into reality was as shocking, and Serith circled the hold for a moment, letting her get a good look at the hold built into the mountainside, and the damage and rebuilding in the exposed structures.

“Welcome to Vinesprings!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're caught up with the other version of this story on FF now, so updates will be concurrent with that. Thank you so very much for reading, and huge shoutouts to plainbay and Weyrman for reviewing. It's much appreciated!


	9. Vinesprings Hold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This piece is written in compliance with Anne McCaffrey's published rules on fan fiction. It is posted here as a transformative work for personal use only, and will be removed if properly requested from the copyright holder. I do not and will not make any profit from this piece, though I hope you all enjoy reading it as I enjoy writing it. I also do not make any claims to rights on this series. Anne McCaffrey and Todd McCaffrey are the owners of the Dragonriders of Pern® series, and I'm grateful for the chance to play on their literary land.

The infirmary was crowded and noisy, but Morika felt at home. H’ralen had led her to the makeshift structure as soon as they landed, spoke to the Healer, then was called off quickly for help elsewhere. 

The Healer in charge was an older Journeywoman named Dessa, a practical woman with a thick Tillek accent. She gave Morika a cursory glance, then Sarilla and Marcsen as they came in behind her. “Do any of you have any experience in a healing ward?”

Sarilla and Marcsen both shook their heads while Morika nodded.

“You,” she said, pointing at Marcsen. “Help Trey with scrubbing,” she indicated an apprentice off to one side, working on the floor. Her eyes flicked to Sarilla. “You, cutting bandages,” she said, motioning towards the other apprentice. “And you help me,” she added to Morika.

Helping Dessa turned out to be lending an extra pair of hands while she moved through the ward, changing dressings on every patient. Some were conscious, others weren’t. Most of the wounds were broken bones and lacerations from falling debris during the earthquake and injuries afterwards. Dessa loaded Morika’s arms with supplies, then started at the top of the room with a pale, sleeping child who never woke at their work.

“Most of the patients here were injured badly enough during the earthquake that they have a long recovery ahead, and a handful who have hurt themselves since then. We’re running very short on supplies, especially medications. Brown Rider H’ralen said that you trained in empathy with other Healers?”

The whole time she spoke, she was briskly working on the child’s leg, which Morika was frankly surprised hadn’t been lost entirely. Even with experience in healing wards, she felt a little green at the sight of the damage.

“Ah, yes. Some.”

“They must have trained you to do pain blocks? How good are you?”

“Reliable. Good enough for a few hours. Any longer, and I might damage them.”

“At least someone taught you control, then. Had a dimglow in here right afterwards who took the feeling out of a woman’s arm too aggressively and she lost the use of it.”

Morika gulped. “No, they taught me how to avoid that.”

“Good. Pain blocks for every patient, and check in on the unconscious ones and report to me on the extent of damage. Can you do that?”

In answer, Morika set the supplies down on the table next to the child’s bed, laid her hand on his forehead, and began to work.

It wasn’t fun or flashy work. It was tedious and draining, coaxing each body to ignore the pain signals from the wounds without deadening all feeling or function. She felt phantom sympathy pains in her own body with each one, some worse than others depending on how receptive the patient’s mind was and how much she had to force the connection. The handful of unconscious patients were an easy mental check, with none of the bizarre, dangerous dreamscapes that a telepath like Balani subjected her to. Even so, nearing the end of the room, Morika found herself starting to sway.

“Sit down, you foolish girl. The Weyrlingmaster will keelhaul me if I damage his candidates, and you’re no use to me if you overstretch yourself before you finish.” Dessa’s words were completely matter-of-fact, and she pointed to a chair, sitting on the empty bed next to it to write notes on several charts.

Morika breathed out and sank into the chair. Every limb ached, and her vision swam at the edges. She was very out of practice with routine, repetitive work like this, and resolved to start doing daily strengthening exercises. She was tired of turning into a limp noodle every time she had to really exert her Talent.

“Have some water,” Dessa said, pointing to a pitcher without looking up from her charts. “How did you come to the Weyr?”

“My brother is a rider. They pulled me in as a candidate because my empathy might be useful.”

“Mmhmm.” Dessa paused, staring at what she was doing, scribbled an equation on the side for dosages, then continued. “You preferred the Weyr to the Healer Hall?”

“I… really hadn’t given it a lot of thought, to be honest. I was supposed to be married.”

“Well that’s clearly been scuppered. You might be more use to us than you would be to the Weyr.”

Morika swirled the water in her glass, staring at it. “I like the Weyr, and I like dragons.”

“We always lose a few apprentices for exactly that reason,” Dessa snorted. “You’re undertrained, but competent enough to pass entrance exams. Consider it, if the Weyr doesn’t work out. And don’t neglect your talent. You’re liable to kill yourself or someone else through negligence if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Morika stared at her. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, but you would have, if I hadn’t made you rest. You need to be careful. Feeling better?” she asked, finally looking up. Morika furrowed her brow at her, trying to figure her out, and didn’t answer for a moment. The other woman was exhausted, worried, her temper frayed, but her mind was surprisingly clear.

“Out of my head, please,” Dessa said, standing up and patting her on the shoulder. “Clearly you’re feeling well enough to keep working.”

“I’m sorry!” Morika said, startled.

“Don’t think that just because someone doesn’t have Talent, doesn’t mean that they aren’t receptive to feeling what you’re doing. Don’t use this –” and she stopped to tap Morika’s forehead “- as a crutch. And if you have telepathy coming in, get out of the habit now of constantly reading your surroundings. You all are uncommon, but not rare in the Healer Hall. We know how to train empaths and use them, and we’re used to working with them when they’re available.” She paused, studying Morika’s face. “You’re young.”

With no further explanation, she moved to the next patient, motioning for Morika to follow her.

They stopped for a midday break after the last of the patients, and Morika sat with Sarilla and Marcsen, helping herself to some cheese and redfruit.

They ate in silence for several minutes before Marcsen said something. “Think they’ll get rebuilt before Threadfall?”

“Marcsen!” Sarilla scolded, looking around to see if anyone else had heard him. They were in a corner and no one was paying attention to them. “Don’t even say that.”

“It’s a fair question.”

Morika glanced outside, to the view of construction debris and workers. “How much of the interior hold was lost?”

“They had a pretty big rockfall cut off a lot of access,” Marcsen replied around a mouthful. “They’re making progress, though. Some of the outlying cotholds were hit pretty badly, so they diverted some resources to deal with that. There just aren’t enough people. Hence us.” He gestured at the girls with a piece of bread.

“They’ll do their best,” Morika said, thinking of her own hold. “Will the Weyr shelter anyone who there isn’t room for?”

“Probably,” Sarilla said. “As many as we can, at least. And of course the Weyr will fly Fall here.” All three looked towards the sky almost reflexively, and Morika wasn’t sure if the disquiet she felt was just hers, or shared.

They turned the topic to more light-hearted Weyr gossip after that, avoiding the reality of the hold’s precarious position, and the Weyr’s duty against Thread.

The candlemark or two after the midday meal was reserved for opening the clinic to general complaints. Morika’s empathy wasn’t needed here, and she and the others were set to work taking temperatures and handing out remedies for sniffles, headaches, and muscle pulls. After that, it was cataloging and storing supplies, cleaning up, and moving boxes.

By the time H’ralen came to collect them at the end of the day, all three were dragging. The other candidates emerging from the hold looked about the same. V’tend surveyed them all critically as they straggled outside into the twilight. “Cheer up, candidates! You don’t know what tired is yet. Just wait until you have dragonets.”

Several of them managed smiles at that.

Morika looked up at a blast of cold air and found dragons returning from errands they were running for the hold. Others swooped in from around the hold, their riders looking less ragged than the candidates.

“Are we going back to the Weyr?” Caretti asked. She appeared to be nursing a rolled ankle, and sounded hopeful.

“Yes, though we hoped to stay for two days, Weyrwoman Taraline is concerned about the condition of the eggs. Things change quickly at this stage. Hatching will be very soon, and it’s time to get you all back to the Weyr and cram whatever else I can into your heads before it’s too late.” He cracked a small smile as they all brightened at the news of the imminent Hatching. “Now, get with your rider and get ready to go.”

Serith greeted Morika with a croon, and she paused to scratch his eye ridges. “What did you all do today?”

“Moved rocks. A lot of rocks,” H’ralen replied wryly. “Serith is a master rock mover now.”

Morika laughed. “It has to get done, I suppose!”

“We got something done, at least. Ready for Hatching?” H’ralen asked Morika while he tightened the riding straps on Serith’s harness.

“We just had the last Viewing this morning,” Morika protested, suddenly more than a little scared at the thought. It felt like days ago, instead of just candlemarks.

“That’s okay, you won’t ever feel ready. I definitely wasn’t ready for Serith’s Hatching, and it was my third time standing!”

“Third?” she asked, accepting a hand up onto Serith’s back.

 _He was waiting for me_ , Serith volunteered.

“Sometimes your dragon just isn’t there; doesn’t mean they won’t be later,” he said cheerfully, getting up behind her. “It’s worse for you girls, less choice.”

Morika thought about that as the dragons took off in flashes of bronze, brown, green, and blue. The two wings formed up in midair, the dragons’ eyes glowing faintly in the dying sunlight and the glow of rising Belior and Timor, each gliding through the air in alignment with its wingmates. The sight made her heart feel full, and she reflexively reached for Serith’s mind, his soothing hers before she touched faintly on the hopeful potential of the eggs back at the Hatching ground. The distance made the connection sketchy and faint, but she could feel them sleeping there. Meanwhile, the dragons climbed into the air, the hold shrinking below, and Morika slipped back to present awareness, the night air rushing over her.

“You good?” H’ralen shouted to her.

“Yes!” she replied, and saw V’tend drop his arm in the signal to go _between_. The wings blinked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, readers! Thank you so much for your patience, and welcome back! In the time since I last posted, I participated in getting a software release out the door, started a new job, bought a house, and moved to a new town, so I hope you'll forgive the short hiatus. :) This chapter was a little bit of a filler, but there are some important points hiding in there, and it helped get me back into the swing of things. Hopefully moving back towards regular updates now - and the Hatching is imminent!  
> Many thanks to my reviewers from last chapter: plainbay, Jeanette, and BeautifulLife, as well as those who left kudos and bookmarked the story. I hope you continue to enjoy. Please, please leave a review! It motivates me to write faster. Reviews in = chapters out. Just like magic!


	10. Turning Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This piece is written in compliance with Anne McCaffrey's published rules on fan fiction. It is posted here as a transformative work for personal use only, and will be removed if properly requested from the copyright holder. I do not and will not make any profit from this piece, though I hope you all enjoy reading it as I enjoy writing it. I also do not make any claims to rights on this series. Anne McCaffrey and Todd McCaffrey are the owners of the Dragonriders of Pern® series, and I'm grateful for the chance to play on their literary land.

Balani was a strong-willed trader’s daughter, young for a queen candidate, when Grailse first met her. Impetuous, pretty, stubborn, big-hearted – none of that had been enough to commit her to Grailse’s memory until Balani stood on the Hatching Sands one cold day Turns ago, and Impressed the infant Myrlyth, gold Xaeth’s last queen daughter.

In the time that followed, Grailse hadn’t had much more contact with the junior weyrwoman. Even a bronze rider’s daughter like Grailse was still just a weyrbrat, and Balani was a busy weyrling and weyrwoman-in-training, Lena driving her hard in the shadow of an approaching Pass. Really, it wasn’t until Grailse’s father died of the wasting fevers, neither his relative youth nor his healthy bronze dragon enough to save him from his own mortality, that things changed. Zella took over Grailse’s fostering and began training her full-time, and Grailse found herself in the same circles as the Telgar leadership.

The witty, laughing Balani she’d interacted with then was a far cry from the red-eyed, wasted creature staring back at her across the table now.

Grailse hooked one ankle behind the other and leaned back in her chair, trying to hold Balani’s unnerving gaze. “You were saying? About the holder of Rock Ridge?”

Another long moment of silence passed, just like all the previous ones. Grailse was starting to have sincere doubts about both the value and wisdom of this project. She’d seen dragonless riders recover somewhat over time before, but others never did. Balani, on the other hand, was in a whole different category. It was as if every time Morika had to work with her, the weyrwoman came back to herself with another piece of humanity stripped away, dwindling away. Or maybe changing into something else entirely.

Balani slowly tilted her head. “His eldest child is a bastard, the product of his wife’s indiscretions, but the lady holder and the steward have hidden it from him, because his own natural children are irredeemable dimglows and incompetent to hold. We used this information in leverage when the hold refused to tithe three Turns ago.”

Grailse rolled her wrist and dutifully wrote the information down, resisting the urge to add edifying commentary. On a side notebook, though, she added a note to look into some gambling rumors that she’d heard before and previously discounted. Rock Ridge was a perpetually difficult hold to work with, and knowledge was leverage for the Weyr. Her mind was already running five conversations ahead to how this might help them.

“Your father was a wingsecond,” Balani suddenly said, and Grailse froze, staring down at her notes. “He was demoted from wingleader. G’lanet. Bronze Azith. Did you want to follow in his footsteps?”

Grailse’s eyes flicked upwards, and she set the writing stylus down. “Milady Balani?”

“He was reckless. Strutting, arrogant… but then, so many bronze riders are. They think they deserve everything. Deserve the Weyr, deserve the queens, deserve the holds. But they don’t! Oh no, they don’t. We need… we need… we need the right candidates…”

Grailse swallowed hard and didn’t respond. Balani clutched at her forehead and shook her head.

“I don’t – I don’t! Myrlyth would have known. Where is Myrlyth?”

“She’s gone,” Grailse said.

“We were supposed to be together forever,” Balani groaned. “They took her from me!”

Grailse knew that she shouldn’t feed into whatever delusion was gripping the weyrwoman now, but she couldn’t help asking. “Who?”

“The clutch! The eggs! She’d be here if she hadn’t clutched!”

That was surprisingly lucid, if misguided. “No, Balani, it’s not the clutch’s fault.”

“Her eggs! They must know where she is.” She went abruptly silent. “They won’t speak to me!”

Grailse stared at her in alarm at that, remembering how Balani had harassed Kesseth and the other dragons. Could she touch the hatchlings in the egg?

“No, Balani, they’re babies. They can’t speak to you. They don’t know where she is, either. Why don’t you wait here for a minute?”

The weyrwoman’s glare burned into her back while Grailse made a fast retreat to find Mebb.

She found the Master Healer in the main room, speaking in a low voice to N’tag, of all people. Grailse slowed.

“Master Healer?” she said, clearing her throat, and they both turned to look at her, Mebb breaking off. “Master Healer. Wingleader. I’m sorry to interrupt, but this is urgent.”

N’tag looked her up and down, frowning, then seemed to place her. “Grailse. Are you working with Balani?”

“Yes, I was. I’m sorry to interrupt,” she repeated, and N’tag gestured for her to get on with it. “Balani said something that made me think she’s trying to speak to the hatchlings. In the egg. Morika’s not here, and I don’t have a dragon; I don’t know how to check. Or how to stop her.”

Mebb touched N’tag’s shoulder. “Call Taraline down here, please.” He strode down the hallway past Grailse without waiting to see if the former Weyrleader obeyed him.

N’tag looked irritated, and if he bespoke Vranth before he followed Mebb, Grailse couldn’t tell. She followed.

Balani was standing behind the desk, keeping it between her and Mebb when Grailse got back down to her room. N’tag stopped in the doorway, watching the scene and blinking.

“Balani, please sit down. What is this about the eggs?”

“They can hear me,” she said, moving to keep the table between herself and the healer. “They can hear me, I know they can hear me, they’re just ignoring me! I know they can find her. She’s not GONE, do you hear me? She’s not gone! There’s a queen in the clutch, I know if I can speak to her, I know that I just need the right candidate -”

“A little help, N’tag?” Mebb said, and the former Weyrleader moved to join him, Balani watching them both warily. Grailse backed up out of the way, and had just seen the two men move to corner Balani before she turned and ran.

She ran straight out of the healing caverns and into the bowl, where a light rain was falling. She ran across the bowl, dodging the few people out and about in the dreary weather, and ignoring the ones who turned to stare at her. She ran for the Hatching Cavern and pelted down the entrance tunnel to the sands.

“Kesseth!” she shouted.

“Grailse?” Taraline demanded, rising from her seat on the bottom of the stands, but Grailse was staring at Kesseth, who had roused from her sleep and was looking at Grailse. Grailse could see the moment the queen recognized what was going on, her eyes suddenly picking up speed and whirling red, and it confirmed Grailse’s fear.

“Push her out, Kesseth! You’re a queen, you don’t need an empath to help you! Push her OUT!”

“Grailse, what is the meaning of this?”

“Balani is trying to interfere with the eggs,” Grailse snapped, still trying to catch her breath.

“Faranth,” Taraline swore.

Kesseth bugled, and Taraline grabbed Grailse’s arm. “Come on!”

And Grailse was running again, this time following Taraline back to the healer’s caverns.

By the time they reached Balani’s room, Mebb had the former weyrwoman sitting on the bed and was trying to convince her to drink a glass of fellis. N’tag was standing off to the side, his face inscrutable.

Balani looked up at their entrance. “You! Both of you!” Her eyes trained on Taraline, and she sneered. “You don’t belong in my Weyr. Trying to steal my seniorship while Myrlyth isn’t here, trying to steal her bronzes! Faithless bitch!”

Taraline moved three steps, took the fellis from Mebb, and shoved it at Balani. Her voice was shaking with rage when she spoke. “I don’t want your sharding Weyr, and I’d like nothing more than to go home, but you won’t harm those eggs while Kesseth and I are here. Drink.”

Balani moved to knock the glass out of Taraline’s hand, but Taraline jerked it back. Balani turned her attention to Grailse. “And you! Your father was a thorn in my side, and I’m sure you’re no better. Down here all the time, trying to _ingratiate_ yourself. You can’t have her, do you understand? You can’t have Myrlyth’s daughter, you can’t have this Weyr, you’re _useless_ to me, just like he was.”

Grailse shot a look at Taraline, mixed bafflement and anger, which she found returned.

N’tag’s sudden bark of, “Drink the shaffing fellis, Balani, you’ve lost all your sense!” was probably meant to be helpful, but it just made Balani angrier.

“I hate you,” she spat out, and Mebb moved between the three of them and Balani, taking a deep breath as he took the fellis back from Taraline and giving each of them a quelling look.

“All right, that’s enough. N’tag, Taraline, please wait outside. Grailse, please take up the notes. Balani, this is just concentrated enough to make you calm and drowsy, I promise. I know you’re hurting right now. Please, let me help you?”

Everyone held their breath, but Balani stared at Mebb for a moment, then snatched the glass and drank it even as tears began to flow down her face. Grailse grabbed the notes from the table and followed Taraline and N’tag out of the room.

N’tag didn’t say a word to any of them, just strode out as if he couldn’t get away fast enough.

Taraline glanced at Grailse and inclined her head down the hall, leading her to a small examination room.

“You did well to come rouse Kesseth,” she said, and Grailse nodded. “Did you even get anything useful today?”

Grailse, rattled, stared down at the hides she’d been writing on, trying to figure out how to answer the question. “I… yes. I have the information you need to deal with Rock Ridge, at least. There’s a treaty with Tillek that we didn’t know about, too. And I got the last of the filing system key from her. I’ll get this all put away with the rest.”

Mebb cleared his throat from the doorway, and they looked over. “She’s resting now. Grailse, what happened?”

“She just started ranting about my father. I guess she knew him? And then going on about Myrlyth, and how the hatchlings would help her find them. That was when I thought she was probably trying to reach them. But there was something else she said, something about candidates.”

“What did she say?” Taraline asked.

“I’m not sure I remember. Just something that… didn’t sound right.”

“We should talk to one of the empaths about it,” Taraline said. “Kesseth is keeping closer watch on the eggs. She says they’re very restless. All the excitement… I’m afraid she might have triggered the hatching. I’m going to have V’tend call the candidates back.” Grailse felt a thrill of anticipation and fear at that.

“This is unsustainable, Weyrwoman,” Mebb said, and Taraline folded her arms.

“I’m well aware of that, Master Healer. What do you suggest we do?”

None of them would meet each other’s eyes, though all were surely thinking the same thing.

“We could send her back to her family,” Mebb finally said.

“Unleash an unstable telepath on a caravan of traders?” Taraline asked, sighing in frustration. She seemed to recall herself and flicked a glance at Grailse, her mouth quirking before she straight out rolled her eyes. “Oh, you’ve seen enough damning things as all of us at this point. You know it as well as we do.”

“Weyrwoman,” Mebb murmured.

Taraline rubbed at her neck. “Yes, yes. I’m sorry. She has this effect on me. Let me think on it and consult some of the other weyrwomen. We’ve never had this particular problem with a bereaved rider.”

“And the eggs?” Grailse asked.

“Kesseth is on the alert now. Let’s get the other empaths on a rotation down here, too, to keep an eye on her.”

Mebb nodded, and after a few more awkward moments, they split up. It was the oddest meeting that Grailse had ever been part of, and all of Taraline’s haughty dignity was gone, evidently shaken away by the accusations that Balani had thrown at her.

Grailse, at loose ends now, and with the rest of the candidate class still at Vinesprings, dropped off the notes down in the records room, then walked up to the bowl. It was still drizzling outside, but she sat down next to the waterfall and sat and waited. She was keeping an ear out for the Hatching Cavern, but she had far more on her mind than just the imminent Hatching. What had Balani been on about? She needed Morika here, with her uncanny abilities to get into the former weyrwoman’s mind.

Grailse tried again to parse what Balani had said about candidates, but her mind kept skipping to the accusations about her father, G’lanet, as well as the interactions with Taraline and N’tag. There was so much more going on here than she had thought. Maybe Zella knew, but she hesitated to take this to even her aunt. She was moving into unknown waters and wasn’t sure what course she should take.

Time passed and Grailse relocated to the living cavern, finding food and ignoring the strange looks she got for her damp appearance. She continued to keep an eye out for… everything. The Hatching Cavern, the returning candidates, any restless dragons that might indicate Balani causing problems. She slowly began to unwind, even as she grew more confused.

Light was failing when the wings burst into the air above the bowl, many of the dragons circling down covered in rock dust from their day’s labors. Grailse hurried out and looked for the browns until she identified Serith descending near the hunting grounds. She hurried out to meet him and, to her relief, found that Morika was indeed on his back with H’ralen.

“Oh good, Morika, you’re back,” Grailse said, snagging Morika by the arm as soon as she slid off of Serith. Morika smiled at her tiredly, but didn’t even get a word in before Grailse began to walk her quickly away across the bowl.

“Hello to you, too, Grailse!” H’ralen called after them. Grailse ignored him.

Morika pried Grailse’s hand off of her arm while she removed her flying jacket. “Shells, Grailse, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t…” Grailse shook her head, her headache intensifying. “I was working on the records while you were gone, and working with Balani…” She stopped, her thoughts still tumbling around in her head without coming out in words.

“You’re not normally so tongue-tied, Grailse. Are you all right?”

She huffed in annoyance. “Balani was trying to contact the hatchlings, in the egg. The Weyrleader was there, and Balani said something about the candidates that just really didn’t seem right, and Taraline… Morika, I really think you and I need to go see Mebb. And Balani. Definitely Balani. Pessa should be down there, but there’s something not right here. More than we thought.”

Morika folded and unfolded her arms. “Right now? We were at Vinesprings all day long, and I’m exhausted. I was working with patients, and the healer warned me about overextending… I’m tired. If you think it needs to be right now, it can be right now, but -” She cut off, lifting her head and staring up at the sheer walls of the bowl, obviously feeling what it took Grailse several seconds longer to hear.

The hum started almost subterranean, shivering in the rocks and building to a thrumming croon. Dragons all over the Weyr emerged onto ledges and began to dart across the bowl. The dragons who had just returned from Vinesprings interrupted themselves on the way to the lake or the feeding grounds to head towards the Hatching Cavern, avoiding midair collisions with almost supernatural aerial grace. The humming grew.

“Oh!” Morika said, her eyes unfocused, face almost rapturous as she listened.

“Already?” Grailse breathed.

In the next second, a brown broke away from the rest, and Nith and B’lor swooped down to land as close as was safe with more speed than grace. “Come on, both of you! The Hatching is starting!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, my friends! For my American readers, happy 4th of July! So, what do you think? This chapter took on a life all its own, and things happened that even I wasn’t expecting. This chapter and the next two are going to be very closely tied together, so I’ll do my best to make sure the updates are regular.   
> Many thanks to my reviewers from last chapter: plainbay and boogieshoes, as well as those who bookmarked the story or left kudos. I hope that everyone continues to read and enjoy, and please, please consider leaving a review for me as a birthday gift!  Reviews make my day and help me write faster!


	11. Entrance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This piece is written in compliance with Anne McCaffrey's published rules on fan fiction. It is posted here as a transformative work for personal use only, and will be removed if properly requested from the copyright holder. I do not and will not make any profit from this piece, though I hope you all enjoy reading it as I enjoy writing it. I also do not make any claims to rights on this series. Anne McCaffrey and Todd McCaffrey are the owners of the Dragonriders of Pern® series, and I'm grateful for the chance to play on their literary land.

B’lor got both Morika and Grailse up onto Nith and they swept across the bowl above a growing stream of chatting, happy weyrfolk. If any of them were disconcerted by the dragons gliding dangerously close to their heads, they didn’t show it. Some dragons, like Nith, carried candidates across the chaos to drop them directly next to the Hatching Ground; others arrowed into a steep climb to enter the upper entrances of the cavern.

Nith could hardly get them next to the main entrance, and B’lor handed Grailse down almost directly to V’tend, then turned awkwardly against the riding straps to his sister.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said urgently. “Open your mind up, or she won’t be able to feel you there. You can do it.”

Morika immediately loosened up the shields she’d clamped down on in all the excitement and nodded a little too hard. “What if she’s not mine?”

“Then she’s not yours, you get out of her way, and maybe another one will be,” B’lor replied, and gave her an awkward one-armed hug.

 _B’lor_ , Nith’s voice said into both their heads, and they looked around to see V’tend motioning for Morika to get down.

“Are you ready?”

“I don’t think so!”

“That’s my sister,” B’lor said cheerfully, and undid the straps to help her down. Nith sent her a wave of encouragement, then took off again.

V’tend looked her over from head to toe as soon as she stood in front of him. Morika felt his appraisal, then he nodded.

“Remember your lessons. If you Impress, there will be a rider ready to escort you out and start feeding your dragonet. Give the hatchlings room. Now, go inside and turn right; head for the first room on your right. You need to get changed.”

Excitement began to win out over fear when she stumbled into the changing room. Sarilla, who had evidently gotten there well ahead of her, tossed a white candidate’s robe over. Morika immediately began to pull off her clothing, shivering with nerves and exhaustion from the long day. She had already tugged the robe down over her head before she noticed that Grailse, who had been ahead of her, wasn’t in the room yet.

“Where’s Grailse?” she asked Sarilla, but Grailse hurried in at that moment and snatched a robe off of the stack on the shelf.

“Grailse, where were you? What if you were late?” Elivia demanded from where she was planted on a bench in the middle of the room. She looked pale and overwhelmed in her white robes, and her hands were wrapped white-knuckled around the seat as if to hold herself upright.

“I was talking to my aunt, and we’ve got a little time. The humming just started!”

“How long do we have?”

“At least half a candlemark, probably a little longer,” Grailse said. “They’ll come get us when they’re ready for us.”

“It takes that long?” Morika asked.

“I don’t know how everyone would get here on time if it didn’t!” Grailse replied as another two girls rushed in. “The watch riders are bringing in lords and masters and families right now.”

Caretti, leaning against the far wall, crossed her arms. “I’m sure my parents will just love having their evening interrupted.” If she noticed the startled looks everyone gave her, she didn’t let on.

Morika wasn’t letting herself think too hard about her parents, since she hadn’t spoken to them since demanding her right to come to the Weyr to stand. Really, she wasn’t letting herself think of much at all at the moment. Her mind was drifting, through the nervous energy of the changing rooms, to the exuberant dragons and weyrfolk, to the guests arriving for the Hatching. She shied away from the hatchlings. Her mind felt overstretched from working all day long, but adrenaline was very obviously pushing the bounds of her stamina. Regardless of what happened today, she was going to have a shaffing bad headache tomorrow, she knew that much.  

“So who’s going to get the queen?” The question and accompanying nervous laughter brought Morika back to the present. It was one of the girls she didn’t know as well, a former harper apprentice named Bryn.

“Don’t even ask that,” Elivia said. She looked ready to faint at this point, and Morika wordlessly grabbed a waterskin from the table by the door and moved to give it to her.

“I don’t think one of us gets her; I think she gets whichever one of us she wants,” Sarilla replied to a spate of giggles.

The waiting continued, and Morika drifted back over to Grailse as the last of the female candidates arrived.

“Don’t ask me if I’m ready,” Grailse murmured to her.

“I wasn’t going to!”

“My aunt wanted to give me two dozen pieces of advice, I think.”

“B’lor just told me to get out of her way if she didn’t want me.”

“That’s not bad advice… but there are the greens, too.”

Morika fiddled with the rough-spun edge of her robe. “Either would be fine,” she said.

“Is a green what you expected when you came to the Weyr?”

“I didn’t. I just decided… that there was so much more. I knew that I had something to offer the Weyr, and I love dragons, and I wanted what B’lor had, and I didn’t want what the hold could give me. So I’m here. Thread is coming whether I’m here or there. I’d rather be here, doing something. So I’m not _expecting_ anything, but I’d be perfectly happy Impressing any dragon.”

Grailse smiled a little. “That’s quite a speech. Have you been practicing?”

Morika shrugged. “A little. I’ve just been thinking about it. I know I’ll see my parents today.” She almost immediately regretted her words when Grailse didn’t immediately respond. “What about you? Green?”

“If a dragon wants me, she gets me. I’ll always do my duty to the Weyr. That’s why I’m standing for the hatching. But it’s a very big difference, between being a green rider and being a weyrwoman.”

Morika didn’t have time to pursue the statement. A senior green rider leaned her head through the door and looked them over. “Candidates? This way.”

And suddenly it was time.

They walked back the way they had come, joining up with the larger group of male candidates halfway there. The huge hallway leading directly onto the Sands was empty of guests now, though the sound of the audience bounced down the rock hall to them. V’tend was waiting for them off to one side, looking almost unreasonably calm, considering the state of his charges.

“Good luck, candidates,” he said, then gestured them on ahead.

Morika shot a fast look at Grailse, and found her friend doing the same back at her.

“Good luck?”

“Good luck.”

They smiled at each other, then fell in with the other candidates and walked from the hall onto the Sands.

The Hatching Cavern was brighter than Morika had ever seen it, despite it being full night outside now. Glow baskets everywhere were lit to blazing, reflecting on the gleaming, rocking shells of the clutch below, and their queen guardian, golden Kesseth sitting alertly off to one side. Morika, strung as tight as a fine wire and her empathy kicked into overdrive, felt that the queen was listening for, and possibly mentally leaning on, Balani. Morika continued to avoid deliberately touching the eggs, though she was mostly allowing the sensations to wash freely over her.

The humming was still vibrating through the air, a warm underlay to the excited talk and shouts from the stands, but the dragons were beginning to taper off.

The two riders who had walked them in gently encouraged the candidates to spread out, moving further onto the hot Sands and closer to the clutch. Some candidates walked forward quickly – Morika wondered if that was more eagerness or burning feet – while others eased out slowly. She stuck close to Grailse, feeling a little overwhelmed by the sensory overload and the surrealness of her situation. No wonder some candidates stood multiple times. How could anyone concentrate on Impression in the middle of all this for the first time?

She’d barely thought the question when the humming went quiet, and a hush fell over the stands, the watching audience seeing something that the candidates, down on the Sands, couldn’t.

The sharp _sklitch_ noise of a shell cracking open seemed louder than it should be. Morika saw Rylon, ahead and to the right of her, jump.

The egg was russet with green swirls, set forwards towards the candidates, and it rocked violently for a moment before spinning to the side and falling apart around a dragon glistening with egg-fluid.

He was brown, and as he unfolded his wings and swept a questing gaze across the candidates, Morika caught her breath. He was starving and desperate. She felt him like an alien in her head, different from the Impressed adults that she was around every day in the Weyr. She felt a surge of fear that if she could feel him so clearly, he could do the same to her, but he was already moving, headed straight towards a Smithcraft boy who seemed at first oblivious to his good fortune, until the dragonet was nearly on top of him.

The Impression link, of two minds gravitating into each other, colliding and tangling, merging irreversibly, blinded Morika’s mental senses for several seconds. She missed the joy, didn’t hear the hatchling take on his new rider’s voice and give him his name, just heard the boy cry, “He says his name is Telth!” The spectators cheered, and talking swelled again.

The next egg was a green, who cried from the moment she spilled from her egg until she stumbled into Caretti, seeming to surprise both of them when they looked into each other’s eyes and Impression occurred.

“Did you see the look on her face?” Grailse whispered to her, laughing. “Like Hyralth snuck up on her!”

Morika agreed, but she was distracted from the next Impression by Kesseth shifting to her full height, and by the shadow that Morika felt hovering over the Hatching Cavern. She immediately tuned out everything around her and concentrated on Balani’s presence.

 _You don’t belong here,_ Kesseth warned.

Balani didn’t answer, and Morika could feel her reaching to make connections with candidates.

“Faranth,” she swore softly. Kesseth was swift, knocking Balani back with the mental agility only a queen dragon possesses. But Balani continued to try to make connections, reaching almost indiscriminately across the Sands, though Morika couldn’t tell exactly what she was aiming to do.

“Morika?”

She heard Grailse as if through a long tunnel, and winced. “It’s Balani,” she said, completely concentrated now on trying to build the loop that Fay taught her, to force Balani to stay in her own mental space. Kesseth kept running interference on an increasingly frustrated Balani, while Morika struggled with her drained powers, reaching out across the Weyr to grab hold of Balani’s mind.

 _Let GO of me!_ Balani yelled at her, blistering her mind. Morika gritted her teeth.

_Stay away from them! What are you doing?_

_I need the bonds,_ Balani shouted, and if Morika didn’t completely understand what she meant, it was enough to chill her in the middle of the Sands. She was exhausted, and her senses felt blunted. The entire struggle was taking only seconds, but it felt like sprinting the long track behind Telgar Hold, up the foothills, in the middle of high summer, in the mud.

Balani changed course from the candidates to a fast strike towards two new hatchlings on the sands, a blue and a bronze, and Kesseth and Morika reacted together, buffeting her backwards again.

Nith was suddenly in her mental space, and Serith, and other dragons she was less familiar with, giving her just enough added stability to force Balani back and lock her into her own head, with Kesseth reinforcing the restriction as Morika lost control of the connection and fell back to herself on the Hatching Sands.

She was on her knees, and she was positive she’d scalded the skin on her legs. Grailse gripped her arm, and immediately pulled her upright when Morika looked up and focused on her.

“There are only a few eggs left, you have to get up!” Grailse said, steadying Morika while her head spun. The ringing in her ears was distracting, but Morika tried to re-orient. All around her was the chaos of Hatching, and a flash of movement on the stands nearby revealed Master Healer Mebb actually running towards the exit of the Grounds, and Weyrwoman Taraline already out of the stands and moving around the edge of the Sands towards them.

Morika looked around quickly and saw five eggs remaining. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been out of her senses fighting with Balani, but she’d only missed a handful of hatchings. Kesseth had obviously told Taraline, and the Weyrwoman and the Master Healer were going to deal with the situation.

She was just trying to take stock of the remaining candidates when the spectators hushed.

Morika looked back toward the eggs. Her mind was still ringing, her empathy battered and telling her nothing. The sound of an egg cracking in the quiet was very loud, and she and Grailse both stared fixedly as the queen egg shuddered, then split apart in a shower of glistening shards. Balani, Mebb, and Taraline were instantly forgotten.

The queen dragonet tumbled from the egg, caught herself, and stood. She shook out damp and wrinkled wings, her jeweled eyes whirling. She paused and then stretched like a feline, took a few steps, and looked around, surveying the candidates.

Morika was breathless. Her head felt deafened like someone had rung a Gather bell inside her brain.

Grailse, next to her, took a step, and Morika moved in the opposite direction, both aware that they needed to give the queen space should she come towards them.

The little gold was moving. She paused at Bryn, veered away, looked into Elivia’s face, kept moving. She hissed at one unfortunate girl. Candidates, male and female, got out of her way. Up in the stands, whispers of intense speculation broke out as she made her way, nameless and increasingly agitated, across the Sands. Kesseth voiced an encouraging croon from her stance near the back of the cavern, which the other dragons perched in the top of the cavern echoed.

And then the little queen reached Morika and Grailse where they stood, and time slowed to a crawl. There was a small, breathless gasp, and then the queen warbled happily.

“Her name is Atalyth!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday, my friends! Thank you for reading, and special thanks to plainbay and rpglady76 for their kind reviews last chapter!  
> If you enjoyed the chapter, didn’t enjoy the chapter, had some thoughts, had some questions, or just plain read the chapter, please leave me a review! They motivate me to write faster!


	12. Embarking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This piece is written in compliance with Anne McCaffrey's published rules on fan fiction. It is posted here as a transformative work for personal use only, and will be removed if properly requested from the copyright holder. I do not and will not make any profit from this piece, though I hope you all enjoy reading it as I enjoy writing it. I also do not make any claims to rights on this series. Anne McCaffrey and Todd McCaffrey are the owners of the Dragonriders of Pern® series, and I'm grateful for the chance to play on their literary land.

The usual post-Hatching chaos was unfolding all around Grailse, but it was a distant blur compared to the life-altering, dragon-shaped detail eating every chunk of meat Grailse tossed into her insatiable mouth. From the second that Atalyth looked into Grailse’s eyes, every one of her priorities had changed in a helpless spiral while their minds tied irrevocably together. Atalyth was beautiful, and wonderful, and amazing, and Atalyth adored Grailse without question. Atalyth demanded every ounce of her attention right now, and at the moment, Atalyth was hungry, so of course Grailse was feeding her.

As if in answer to the thought, Atalyth turned her nose up at the next piece of meat and sat back on her haunches, regarding Grailse with loving imperiousness. _I’m sleepy. Can I sleep now?_

“Is she done?” V’tend appeared at her side, and Grailse looked up at him almost helplessly.

“Yes, she’s done.”

“Then take her to the barracks and settle her down. Once she’s asleep, get changed for the Hatching Feast and come down. Taraline would like to see you.”

Of course the weyrwoman would like to see her. Grailse was no longer the efficient, discrete niece and unofficial apprentice of the headwoman. She was a queen rider, automatically and inextricably responsible for the weyr she’d grown up in, in ways she had never anticipated or trained for.

 _What’s wrong?_ Atalyth demanded, her immature wings mantling and her eyes picking up speed while she looked around for a nonexistent threat. Grailse hurried to reassure her, scratching her eye ridge.

“Nothing is wrong, I was just being silly about something!”

“Calm down,” V’tend said. “You have her in your head at all times now. Be responsible.”

“Responsible is all I’m used to being!” Grailse hissed, then clapped a hand over her mouth.

V’tend merely raised an eyebrow at her. “Then keep practicing.”

“I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t expect to Impress.” She avoided looking at Atalyth when she said it. Atalyth was somehow as ungainly as any dragonet ever to hatch, yet also simultaneously the most perfect dragonet Grailse had ever set eyes on; and she was also the most improbable, because she had somehow, for some reason, chosen Grailse.

The Weyrlingmaster nodded. “The dragon knows,” he replied, the old adage providing some small comfort. “We’ll discuss more in your intake assessment tomorrow. For now, try to enjoy the evening. Congratulations, weyrling.” He clapped her on the shoulder and moved to the next weyrling pair.

 _I don’t understand what’s wrong_ , Atalyth said in her head, unexpectedly plaintive.

Grailse reached out and wrapped her arms around the dragonet’s neck, feeling a sharp stab of remorse at upsetting her. “It’s just me being silly. Do you want to go sleep now?”

 _Sleep sounds good_ , the little gold agreed, and followed Grailse towards the entrance to the weyrling barracks.

The four female-Impressed greens were already in the female barracks with their riders – Caretti, Sarilla, Lin, and Fiska.

Grailse started a little when she walked in and saw them, then guided Atalyth down the room to the largest dragon couch.

 _Here you are, dearest,_ she said, patting the couch, and the dragonet climbed in before curling into a ball with a murmuring sigh and dropping almost straight off to sleep. Her presence in Grailse’s mind was both strange and the most natural thing in the world. She was so easy to reach out to, as if she had always been there, an extension of Grailse herself, yet the sensation was still completely new. Grailse ran a wondering hand down Atalyth’s suede-like neck, then lowered herself to sit next to the dragon, looking around.

“Congratulations,” Sarilla said softly. She was also sitting next to her dragonet, who appeared to be fighting sleep, the outer membrane on her eye flickering open before sinking closed again.

“Thank you. Congratulations to you, too,” Grailse said. “Her name is Atalyth,” she added unnecessarily, and Sarilla smiled.

“This is Keth,” she replied, “She hatched after you’d already left the Sands.”

“Hyralth,” Caretti volunteered from where she was changing into a Gather dress. “Though I think you saw that.”

“Alazahth,” Fiska said. She was a quiet girl, much given to introversion, and if Grailse was surprised by anyone’s presence in the barracks, it was hers.

“And Tinerth,” Lin finished, and pointed to the trunk at the foot of the bed next to the dragon couch. “And look, someone already brought our things down.”

Grailse looked and saw, though she was hardly surprised. Her aunt always saw that the Impressed candidates’ belongings came down right away, and it would have been obvious which space the queen would take. Grailse had taken the job at the last hatching, actually.

She felt a little numb beneath the drunken afterglow of Impression joy, love, and affection. Everything was going to permanently change. She’d agreed to stand because it was what was done if you were weyr-raised, and of course she’d had a thought that she could theoretically Impress, but the actual gravity of the situation was hitting her.

“Morika didn’t Impress?” she asked casually while she pulled her Gather dress out of the trunk.

“No, and that’s the surprise of the night, isn’t it?” Caretti said. “I think half the weyr lost their bets.”

“More like three quarters,” Sarilla snorted. “Still, maybe the next Hatching.”

“Didn’t something happen?” Lin asked. “You were right with her, weren’t you, Grailse?”

Grailse debated for a long moment, staying silent while she pulled the indigo dress straight and tried to decide what to say. “Someone tried to interfere with the dragonets,” she finally conceded. “Mentally. Morika defended them.”

The other girls all gasped, looking properly horrified. Fiska edged closer to her sleeping green. “Are they safe now?”

“The weyrwoman was taking care of it,” Grailse said. She might not know all the rules of her new life, but this one seemed pretty obvious. She looked around at the dragonets, all deeply asleep now, and touched gently on sleeping Atalyth in her mind. “Are you all ready to go to the feast?”

All five of them hesitated, looking at their dragonets and then each other, wavering.

“Maybe we shouldn’t…” Lin whispered, and Sarilla made a noise of indecision.

V’tend rescued them, calling down the hallway. “Come along, ladies. They’re deeply asleep now, they won’t notice you’re gone. Take your break while you can, you won’t get many for the next turn.”

Grailse laughed, startled. “There we are, already the starry-eyed new weyrlings. That didn’t take long!”

They all laughed then, and if they walked out a little slowly, no one could blame them.

* * *

On the other side of the weyr, Morika sat in the front room of the Healer’s Caverns, where B’lor had escorted her as soon as she came off the sands. In typical older brotherly fashion, his concern got her to the right place, but he hadn’t thought to get her anything before heading back out to find the closest healer.

Morika, therefore, was wrapping her legs in strips of bandage that she soaked in the water pitcher, hissing a little at the sting. The pain was a good sign. She didn’t judge herself too badly burned, but pressing her legs into incubation-hot sands for several minutes was anything but beneficial.

Her mind, on the other hand, felt blistered, far worse than after any of her earlier sessions with Balani, and she didn’t want to think too much about how bad the damage might be. She was completely deaf to her talent right now.

She could be excused, then, for not realizing someone had entered the room until they sat down next to her. She could certainly be excused for looking up and jumping backward so hard that she tripped over her chair and fell when she saw Balani sitting and looking calmly back at her.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice was close to a shriek. “Mebb? Mebb!”

“He stepped out. Be quiet,” Balani said, “and listen.”

Morika crawled backward a little more before levering herself to her feet, never taking her eyes off of Balani. Balani stared right back at her, never breaking her gaze.

Morika weighed her options and came up lacking. She felt hobbled without the powerful empathy and telepathy she’d come to lean on, her legs hurt every time she moved, and she had no way to get hold of anyone without leaving Balani here alone. So she finally lifted the chair and sank back into it.

Seeming satisfied that Morika was going to listen, Balani began to speak.

“There are things that I need to tell you while I’m thinking clearly.” She tapped her forehead. “You damaged me, and I can’t hear a thing right now. But I also feel… more myself than I have since… in a long time. If you haven’t figured it out, I was not thinking clearly earlier tonight.” Her smile was twisted. “A Prime versus a Prime can never be a good thing, but at least I can string a coherent thought together right now.”

She paused, but Morika didn’t say anything, watching her with a mix of apprehension and distrust.

“I don’t have long, but there are things that I need to tell you. Things that aren’t meant to be written down, but passed down from queenrider to queenrider. There are things that Lena didn’t tell me.”

“Like what?” The words were spoken unwillingly, but Morika said them anyway.

Balani nodded, and a look of relief flashed across her face. “I came to the weyr from a trader caravan. I didn’t fit in with the weyrfolk or the holdbred, and I didn’t have many friends here until I Impressed. Myrlyth became everything for me. She was my one confidante and ally who would never hurt me, gossip about me, or betray me.” Balani paused, then leaned forward. “Don’t fall into the same trap, Morika.” Morika started. It might have been the first time that Balani had ever actually called her by name. “Don’t. The Impression bond is consuming and held above all else, but don’t let it be your everything, your only thing. Because if the unthinkable happens and you lose her, you will have no chance. You will lose yourself.”

Morika opened her mouth to object that she hadn’t Impressed and didn’t know if she ever would, but Balani held up a hand and stopped her.

“I meant it, I don’t have long. Please, just listen. You and I are both Primes, but I chose not to be trained. It didn’t seem important. That was also a mistake. You see what I’ve become. And I failed my weyr, unable to use my talents fully to serve them. Instead, now they control me and hurt those in my charge. I wanted to be a good weyrwoman, Morika, I really did, but I didn’t know how, and I was just figuring it out when the earthquake happened. I thought I could still fulfill my duty, but I couldn’t. I can never be whole again, and I know that the shock you gave me won’t last.”

She grimaced suddenly and licked her lips, swallowing hard, as if tasting something disgusting. Morika remained silent in the pause this time, and Balani continued after a moment.

“There’s more. I was pursued and harassed by bronze riders who knew I would be senior, the first change in leadership for Telgar in turns. I was no better in return to them, and it hurt all of us. Don’t let them push you around, don’t be fooled by pretty words with no substance, and guard your heart. Guard the future of the weyr. But keep your friends. And don’t burn bridges with other weyrwomen if you can avoid it.”

When she stopped this time, panting, her face turning gray, Morika leapt in.

“You’re mistaken.” Her words were cold. “I’m not a queenrider. I didn’t Impress, because I was busy fending YOU off to protect the clutch!”

Balani blinked at her. “Didn’t you?”

“No!”

Balani hesitated for a moment. “I can’t hear now, but I saw then. I saw the nightmares, I saw the earthquake, I saw the first Threadfall.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw you before you came here, though I had no idea the disaster that would bring you here.” She broke into a sudden, real smile. “I saw her. She’s beautiful, Morika.”

Morika had just about decided that Balani’s lucidity had run out, and her anger was growing. She opened her mouth to retort back when Mebb walked in.

He stopped short, looking between them, with Balani wavering in her seat, and Morika perched on a chair several feet away, her legs wrapped in cloth bandages, a spilled water pitcher on the floor between them.

“Balani, I told you not to leave your room.”

Balani sighed. “Yes. I just wished to speak to Morika. Can you please help me back? I’m… very tired.”

Mebb shook his head slowly, then moved to take Balani’s arm and help her to her feet. Balani looked at Morika before she let the healer guide her from the room.

“I’m sorry, Morika. I truly couldn’t help it, and I had to do this while I knew myself enough to make the choice.”

Morika stared after her, nonplussed, and still hadn’t made sense of the former weyrwoman’s words by the time Mebb came back to the front room.

He looked older, his face drawn with fatigue and stress. “I’m sorry about that, Morika. You must have come down here to have me look at your legs. Did she try to do anything?”

“No,” Morika said, while he began to unwind the bandages. “She seemed confused, but not dangerous. Not now, at least. She just wanted to talk. What are they going to do about her?”

“Taraline will be down later, after the feast,” he replied. “For now, Balani looks like she just wants to sleep.” He peered at her leg. “This doesn’t look too bad. Let me put some numbweed on, then we’ll re-bandage. You should be fine.” He grabbed a jar of numbweed from the closest cabinet, then began slathering it on the burns liberally.

“I… can’t hear anything. I can’t feel my talent at all.”

“I suspected as much.”

“You did?”

“Primes Impress, unless there’s something dramatically wrong with them. I haven’t noticed anything dramatically wrong with you, so you can’t have been a Prime on the Sands tonight.”

Morika blinked. “What?”

He glanced up and smiled reassuringly at her. “You did a brave thing tonight, defending the clutch and locking down Balani. But you did more than block her; you burned her out. Unfortunately, you did it by burning yourself out, also. Because you had the help of some dragons, you were less affected than she was, and you will recover fully.” He finished with the numbweed and began to bandage her legs again, this time with dry cloths. “A dragon can’t Impress someone she can’t hear,” he said, slipping a clip onto the end of the bandage to secure it. “I spoke to Taraline before I came down here, and she had a word with Kesseth as well. I may not have a fleck of mental talent, but I trust the opinion of a queen dragon. You will hear dragons again, and dragons will hear you again. I’ll ask Fay to assess you also and see if there’s anything we can do to speed your recovery along.”

Morika absorbed this for a moment, unsure how to feel. “I… thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, I recommend that you head up to the feast.”

“I’m not sure I want to go.”

“Unsuccessful candidates rarely do, but as I remember it, there will be others there to drown your sorrows and commiserate with, and then a party to celebrate the successes of your peers.”

Morika considered, then sighed. “All right. Thank you.”

He turned toward the cabinet that held herbs and medicines and rooted around for something. “You should take a painkiller with you.” He grabbed a bottle, then paused. “Did you take something out of here?”

“No. Why?”

He stared at the cabinet again, then shrugged, turning, and handed her the dose. “I’m probably imagining things. You should head out now.”

Morika swallowed the pill he handed her, then left the Healing Caverns. She walked out to the bowl and trudged across to the brightly lit living cavern. Both music and celebratory people spilled out into the night, laughing, talking, and dancing. It took her a moment, but she finally located B’lor on the fringes and walked across to join him, sighing as he grabbed her in a hug.

“Next Hatching,” he said, and she shrugged.

“Maybe.”

“Yes,” he said firmly. “Here, let’s go find you some food and drink. It’s been a long day and an even longer night.”

Morika nodded fervently at that, but as he started to lead her into the cavern, a terrible keen began, built to a heartwrenching pitch, then dwindled off.

Morika looked wildly around in the sudden silence, trying to reach for the dragons and unable. Whispers broke out, quickly growing into a confused babble.

“What happened?” she demanded of B’lor. “Did a dragon die?”

His face shocked, he slowly shook his head. “Not a dragon. Balani.” He listened for a moment. “She overdosed on fellis.”

“Oh.” Morika whispered. It seemed a vastly inadequate reaction. “She… she had to.”

He shot her a questioning look, and she clarified.

“That’s what she meant. She knew she had to because she had to do it while she was burned out and could think.”

The words didn’t seem to simplify things for B’lor at all.

It was one more shock of the night, and when Elivia walked up and drew Morika away to join the other failed candidates, she went willingly.

Their number reduced by 14, the remaining dozen-odd candidates sat closely together at a table near the edge of the cavern.

Someone passed Morika a glass as soon as she sat down; she didn’t see who in her exhaustion.

“So that went well, huh?” Kacen, a weyrbred candidate said, toasting her. Morika was taken aback when the whole table solemnly toasted her, then drank deeply.

“Uh?”

“To the newly Impressed!” Anfer called, and everyone toasted and drank again.

“To the rest of us!” another candidate added.

Another toast.

“To those of us staying to stand again, and those of us going home!”

Another toast.

“And those of us who are already home and done with standing!” Kacen announced. The table dutifully raised their glasses and drank some more.

Morika watched a few rounds of this, blinking, before the group dissolved into laughter around her.

“No shame in not Impressing,” Belaret said from next to Morika. She was also weyrbred, and this was obviously not her first Hatching. “Sometimes your dragon isn’t shelled yet, and better to wait for the right match.”

“If there is a right match.” That was Elivia, her mournful statement said into her glass.

“To Elivia’s right match!” Kacen proclaimed, overhearing. Glasses went up.

“Ugh!” Rylon appeared, squeezing in at Morika’s right side, and reached for a glass. Belaret slid one away from him, and Morika quickly grabbed the second one he reached for.

“You’re not old enough,” she told him firmly.

“Go sit with your parents,” Belaret said. “You’ve got tons more Hatchings ahead of you. You were only just old enough to stand.”

“Not fair!”

“Not fair?” Elivia echoed, a little angrily.

Morika quickly raised her glass to forestall an argument. “To candidates whose dragon hasn’t been shelled!”

It was the right idea. The whole group gave a ragged cheer and drank while Anfer reached over and pushed Rylon off in the direction of his parents.

The drink and the talk over the next candlemarks eased the confusion, pain, and exhaustion, until she was ready to toast with everyone else when the Impressed riders were presented to New Telgar: a queen, two bronzes, two browns, three blues, and six greens, living symbols of their hope against the night.

* * *

 

**END OF PART I**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to start by saying that this chapter made me want to pull out my hair, and it is only through the patience and cleverness of my best friend that you’re seeing it in any kind of timely manner. She talked me through a lot of issues with it and straightened out a few wonky spots, all in the middle of wrangling a toddler and a newborn, so she gets the big kudos for this one. She also suffered with me for several chapters through draconic indecision, then suffered with the rest of you when I wouldn’t tell her who Atalyth Impressed until I wrote this chapter.  
> Other huge thanks go out to my reviewers from last chapter: plainbay, boogieshoes, and Allan. Your reviews and support mean the world to me!  
> I hope that everyone enjoyed this chapter. Did you make any correct predictions? Don’t be put off by the “END OF PART I” bit – we’re not done by a long shot! Please consider leaving me a review to help encourage my writing!  
> P.S. If you were so inclined, there are truly some ridiculous names you can saddle a clutch of Pernese dragons with... Wrath, Moth, Tooth, Zenith, Elizabeth, Meredith, Earth, Faith, Perth, Bath, Blabbermouth... you can really make a game out of it.


	13. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This piece is written in compliance with Anne McCaffrey's published rules on fan fiction. It is posted here as a transformative work for personal use only, and will be removed if properly requested from the copyright holder. I do not and will not make any profit from this piece, though I hope you all enjoy reading it as I enjoy writing it. I also do not make any claims to rights on this series. Anne McCaffrey and Todd McCaffrey are the owners of the Dragonriders of Pern® series, and I'm grateful for the chance to play on their literary land.

V’tend looked over his boisterous weyrling charges at the end of the night while Taraline finished noting down the clutch introduction in the official record book. Everyone was over-tired and over-excited. “Grailse, you’re first. Let’s be lively, we all need to get to bed.”

Grailse stepped up to the table where Taraline waited with writing stick poised.

“How would you like her name spelled?” Taraline asked.

Grailse read the origin line upside down.

_Clutch out of Myrlyth by Vranth, 32 eggs, 14 hatched:_

She considered. “Let’s use a y, since Myrlyth did. Mmm. A-d-a… wait, no. A-t-a-l-y-t-h.” She mouthed it back to herself, trying to decide for sure if spelling it that way matched the way it sounded in her head. Taraline waited until Grailse nodded decidedly and repeated the spelling.

 _Gold Atalyth, Impressed by Grailse of Telgar Weyr_.

* * *

 

Fay roused Morika with a gentle shake before any of the other failed candidates were up. Morika opened her eyes to light that seemed too bright, and breathing that seemed too loud. Fay leaned down to whisper in Morika’s ear, her auburn hair swinging down and tickling Morika’s nose.

“Get up, get dressed, and go see Mebb.”

Morika blearily nodded her understanding, then winced at her throbbing head.

Fay pointed at a glass of water next to Morika’s bed, sitting next to a dose of what Morika recognized as hangover cure. Morika nodded a little more judiciously this time, and Fay rested a sympathetic hand on her shoulder before leaving.

If Morika wasn’t exactly feeling better a half candlemark later, she at least felt human enough to make her way down to the healer’s cavern. She couldn’t say if the bile that rose in her throat upon walking in was from her unenviable state, or from knowing that Balani had died here the previous night. Either way, her empathy was still dead to the world, so she at least didn’t feel any strange echoes, or get any inkling of what was going through Mebb’s and A’ton’s minds as they looked her over when she shuffled in.

“Ah, the aftermath of the Hatching Feast,” Mebb said in a mercifully soft voice. “I remember it well. Or at least, I remember some of them.”

“You were a candidate?” Morika asked, claiming a chair.

“No, not a candidate. I know you’ve noticed it before, and I’m surprised you haven’t asked about it before. I have the opposite of receptivity; I am a damper. I will never hear a dragon. However, I did my journeyman rounds at Fort Weyr. It’s universal to hatching feasts.”

“That makes sense,” Morika said. After a moment of consideration, she said, “I don’t think I’ll do that again.”

“Well now, I don’t think you’ll have occasion again,” A’ton said, spinning a small stone between his fingers.

Morika frowned. “I guess I have to go home.”

“That wasn’t what I meant.”

“Why do you think that?” Mebb asked, passing her a plate of dry crackers, which she dutifully started nibbling on.

“Because there’s something wrong with me. Everyone told me Primes Impress. Everyone agreed I should come to the Weyr because I was most useful here since my talents sparked. But I didn’t Impress. I helped with Balani like I was supposed to, and now she’s... gone... so I guess it’s time to go home.” She sighed and dropped her cracker.

Mebb opened his mouth, but A’ton beat him to it, laughing entirely too loudly. “That’s the sorriest load of self-pity I’ve heard since R’fenrin’s Tixeth fell in the mud pit right when he had that pretty holder girl out for a picnic. Look here, Morika – no, look – I know you’re all weepy with hangover tears, but we’ve got to set this straight now.”

She stared at him, then looked to Mebb as if he would intervene. Mebb didn’t say a word, just reached over to take one of the crackers and thoughtfully bite into it.

“What?” Morika managed.

“Glad you asked,” A’ton said, taking it as an invitation to continue. “Did you think you deserved a dragon?”

“Well no…”

“There’s a good place to start, yes. You didn’t deserve a dragon just because you’re a Prime. You did a sharding brave thing handling Balani yesterday, and you didn’t even stop to think it was brave. You just did it. You’ve started thinking that your empathy and telepathy are what make you valuable to the weyr, but you need to stop thinking right now that they set you apart from everyone else, do you hear me?”

She nodded, wide-eyed, and picked up her cracker again.

“Empathy and telepathy won’t make you valuable to the weyr, but your actions will. We’ve got a handful of empaths and telepaths here, and our late Lady Weyrwoman was one, but by and large, they’re not the ones that keep this weyr running. Do you not want to stay?”

“I – I don’t know.”

“You want to go home?”

Morika crumbled the cracker between her fingers and A’ton waited. “My parents will make me go home,” she finally burst out. “I failed. They’ll make me go home.”

“You’re well over the age of majority, Morika,” Mebb said, still soft. “Your parents won’t be making you do anything. You’re not even an heir. In fact, I spoke to them before they left this morning, and they are well aware of the fact that you’ll be deciding soon and will let them know.”

She swallowed. “I don’t want to go back. Not even if I never Impress. My head feels… different from the other times Balani overstretched me. I don’t know if I’ll ever get better, but I want to stay at the weyr.”

“Very good,” A’ton said. “Stop crushing good food, would you?” He reached over and plucked the latest cracker away from her. “Can you make yourself useful to the weyr?”

Morika considered for a long moment. She considered for a long and painful moment what life would look like if her talents never returned, and she finally settled in the strength of her original conviction to help the weyr and actively fight Thread. “Yes. I can. I will.”

“Good,” A’ton approved.

“You’re not burnt out, Morika, no matter what it feels like,” Mebb said. “Fay assessed you before she woke you, and she agreed with Kesseth. It’ll be a little bit, but you’ll come back.”

“And in the meantime, we can train you from the ground up, since it will be coming back slowly,” A’ton said. “And Wessith will be listening to make sure you don’t overextend.”

“But what does an empath do in a weyr? What does a Prime do?” Morika asked. “Everything was about Balani before.”

Mebb smiled. “Oh, there is plenty. I have plenty for you to do here, and we’ll no doubt send you down to Dessa at Vinesprings, as well. Taraline will have uses for you – though we perhaps should review ethics before we hand you over. If all else fails, an empath is a useful one to have around the nursery, since young children tend to deal more in emotions than logic. There’s a long list, Morika, and we could use a few more of you before anyone went idle, if we’re being honest.”

A’ton leaned forward. “But most importantly, Morika – I will have something to teach you here shortly, I’ve no doubt.”

Morika blinked at him. “What’s that?”

“How do you feel about Search?”

* * *

The candidates’ quarters were a somber place the morning after the Hatching, with fully half the remaining candidates hungover, and many of them some degree of melancholy. Most of them drifted out to the common area between the two sleeping rooms, perching on too-few chairs or hovering near the doorways.

“I don’t know if I want to stand again,” Elivia mumbled, flopped over one of the chairs. “But I don’t want to go home.”

“What’s wrong with home?” Belaret asked.

Elivia flopped indecisively in the other direction. “I really can’t stand my family.”

“Well, you have plenty more time to stand. You’re not too old, and the queens will rise often entering a Pass,” Kacen said, overhearing them as he walked in with his belongings bundled up in a bag.

“Where are you going?” Bryn asked. “You’re surely not leaving the weyr?”

“Temporarily,” he replied cheerfully. “I’m almost out of age to apprentice, and I don’t think there’s a dragon for me. I’m headed to the Beastcraft Hall. I’ll be back to work with the weyr’s animals after I’ve reached journeyman status.”

“But how do you know?” Elivia asked, a desperate tinge in her voice. “How do you know there’s not a dragon for you?”

He wiggled his eyebrows comically. “I just – knew! But no, really, I went to ask a couple of the Search dragons to reassess me. They will, you know. They seemed pretty uncertain this time. That was enough to settle it for me.”

They all glanced over when Senra, an older candidate from a mountain cothold, walked in smiling.

She noticed them all watching her when she walked past towards the entrance to the girls’ quarters. “What?”

“Who asked for you?” Belaret asked. Bryn and Elivia looked lost.

“Zella asked me to stay on at the nursery,” she said. “Excuse me – I need to finish packing up my things.”

Kacen nodded. “You’ll see. V’tend, and Taraline, and Zella, and our craftmasters, will be sorting through. The oldest ones who don’t have a good chance standing – if they want to keep them at the weyr, they’ll offer them a place here and they’ll give up candidacy.”

Almost on the heels of his words, two more people walked in – Taggar, who looked morose, and the weyr tanner.

“The weyrwoman arranged a ride home for me,” Taggar said, walking past them without pause.

“Has anyone seen Anfer?” the tanner asked, and they all pointed after Taggar towards the male quarters. “Right,” he said, looking a little discomfited. “Thanks!”

As he walked away, Elivia got up, looking a little spooked. “Well, I’m off.”

“Where are YOU going?” Bryn asked.

“To go see a Search dragon!”

* * *

“Walk with me.”

Grailse fell in with Taraline as the weyrwoman left the living cavern and began a slow circuit around the outer edge of the bowl.

“Good morning, weyrwoman.”

“You may as well call me Taraline.”

“All right.”

“How is Atalyth?”

Grailse smiled involuntarily. “She’s well. She ate, and now she’s napping.”

“They do that a lot at this age, but she’ll be full grown almost before you know,” Taraline replied, glancing toward the fireheights. Grailse followed her gaze to see Kesseth, released from her duties at the Hatching Grounds, stretched indolently across the rocks, gleaming golden in the sun.

“It’s hard to believe that Atalyth will ever be that big,” Grailse said, but Taraline just nodded, her mind clearly already on another subject. Grailse was content to muse on Atalyth while they walked.

After a bit, Taraline sighed and glanced over at Grailse as they detoured around some weyrchildren playing a game with small round stones.

“I won’t be returning to Benden.”

Grailse shot her a look and waited to see what else she would say.

“I hoped Morika would stabilize Balani, and I could leave the new weyrwoman – you – in her care, but I see now that even if things had gone well, it was a vain hope. While I could leave you here now that the weyr has a new queen, it would be tremendously irresponsible, and it would only hurt us all when Thread falls.”

“I see,” Grailse said, her mind racing.

“Are you wondering about seniorship?”

“I wasn’t.”

“Everyone else has been,” Taraline replied, breathing out in exasperation. “I expect that Kesseth will feel the pressure of an understrength weyr and rise in the near future. I don’t wish it to be a leadership flight. I propose that we count the first flight after your Atalyth has reached her full growth.”

Grailse considered. “You didn’t want to stay here. Why?”

“What has that to do with seniorship?”

“A senior weyrwoman who wants to leave the first chance she gets won’t do the weyr any good.”

Taraline shot her a hard look. “I'm not leaving New Telgar. But if you must know, I left a weyrmate behind at Benden – a weyrmate who has now also clearly decided that I’m not coming back. And I had no desire to be in Balani’s Weyr. That’s all you need to know.”

Grailse raised an eyebrow but didn’t challenge her. They continued walking for a moment.

“Yes. All right. It’s fair – waiting for Atalyth to mature, I mean. The wingleaders will continue taking weyrleadership responsibilities in the meantime?”

“You’re not naïve to weyr politics. You know that we can’t head into Threadfall without a weyrleader. We'll have to have a temporary weyrleader based on the results of Kesseth’s flight, with leadership up for grabs again for the following flight. I can’t imagine what we were thinking would happen without a mature queen or a weyrleader at the first fall. Then again, sometimes I think that we weren’t thinking much at all with Balani around.”

Something clicked for Grailse. “She kept influencing the dragons…”

“What?”

They were stopped near the waterfall now, and Grailse had to raise her voice to be heard over the crashing water.

“She was influencing the weyr against you.” Having to shout it made it sound more confident than she felt, but she knew the words were true when she heard them hang in the air, impossible to take back.

Taraline’s nostrils flared, and she stared at the water. “Well.”

That was all she said, then she kept walking. She was leading Grailse down towards the candidates’ quarters now.

When she spoke again, it was on a completely different subject. “You’ll be helping me with your first duties this morning.”

“What are they?”

“Every weyr does it differently, and New Telgar’s circumstances were not conducive to pickiness, but it’s time to sort through the candidate pool. I’ve already spoken to a few of the failed candidates based on V’tend’s and Zella’s recommendations.”

“I see,” Grailse said. She was hardly new to the weyr, and knew that some candidates were always either asked to leave or placed elsewhere after a hatching. “So what’s left to do?”

Taraline stopped walking, halting them far enough from the entrance to the cavern that no one would overhear them. “Convince the best ones to stay. It doesn’t all have to be done today, but we must secure the best candidates before any of them decide to go home or seek futures elsewhere. There will be large clutches, and we need the best riders now more than ever.”

Grailse nodded, already mentally running through the candidates and weighing strengths and weaknesses.

“The hatchlings may decide, but they’re just babies, easily swayed. You have to remember, Grailse – and if you forget everything else I tell you today, remember this – that anyone you put to egg may end up being a rider in your weyr – a wingsecond, a wingleader, a fellow queen rider. So be sure of your candidates.”

“Sometimes there are surprises?” Grailse suggested wryly.

Taraline gave her the first genuine smile she’d seen on the weyrwoman’s face all morning. “Sometimes there are surprises.”

* * *

“Pay up, boys!”

Zella looked entirely too smug and entirely too chipper, standing in front of B’lor’s and H’ralen’s table in the living cavern the morning after Hatching.

H’ralen looked at her blankly and took another long drink of water. “You must be kidding. It’s just the morning after Hatching.”

“Yes it is, and my niece is riding gold!”

B’lor sighed. “Fine, fine. You won the bet.”

“Don’t go along with this madness, B’lor!” H’ralen protested. “It’s entirely too early for this nonsense!”

“Grailse did Impress,” B’lor said, taking a last bite of his breakfast and standing.

“And I’m too hungover for this!”

“We lost, H’ralen.”

H’ralen groaned, then shoved his seat back and stood as well. They both glanced at each other.

“I’m never drinking again,” B’lor said.

“I’m never betting again!” H’ralen replied.

When they wavered, Zella made a small noise and gestured towards the kitchen.

“Fine, fine, we lost. This time.”

Zella smiled. “And I’ll be betting on your girl next time, but this time… I won. Come on, gentlemen. There are a lot of dishes to get done the morning after a Hatching Feast!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: We start Part II next time! Thank you very much, as always, for reading. Please consider leaving me a review! Huge thank yous and virtual cookies to my reviewers from last chapter: Allan, boogieshoes, plainbay, and rpglady76. Thank you everyone for reading, and I hope to hear from you!
> 
> Edited author's note to add: Someone please tell me if somewhere in canon, it explains how dragons get the spellings for their names. I don't remember ever seeing any explanation, and there's no way Mnementh hatched out of his egg and said, "Oh no, there's a silent M there."  
> Also - not one person said anything about Balani dying! You all shock me. :)


	14. Family Reunited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This piece is written in compliance with Anne McCaffrey's published rules on fan fiction. It is posted here as a transformative work for personal use only, and will be removed if properly requested from the copyright holder. I do not and will not make any profit from this piece, though I hope you all enjoy reading it as I enjoy writing it. I also do not make any claims to rights on this series. Anne McCaffrey and Todd McCaffrey are the owners of the Dragonriders of Pern® series, and I'm grateful for the chance to play on their literary land.

**PART II**

* * *

 

The brown dragon winked out of _between_ at a dark hour long after dusk and well before dawn, appearing above the sinuous, winding rapids of Telgar River before banking to face the hold built high above its banks.

Telgar Hold sat far below in a dark mass, its impressive stone palisades delineated in moonlight where they cradled the outbuildings and marched back into the natural cliffs that housed the rest of the hold.

From high above, it was almost unrecognizable to Morika as her childhood home, especially in the darkness. She clung to her brother as Nith began to descend on silent wings towards the main courtyard. The green dragon on the fireheights voiced a somewhat subdued greeting, undoubtedly aware of what business brought them.

Nith set lightly down on the pavers by the central fountain and waited for Morika and B’lor to dismount before he sprung back into the air and winged away. Morika glanced around uncertainly. The courtyard was empty, lit by the wavering glow of strategic glowbaskets and the harsher light of full Timor and Belior, hung high in the sky at this time of night. She almost didn’t hear the big bronze door swinging open over the water of the fountain, but B’lor touched her shoulder, and she turned to see Tand, the assistant steward, emerge with another glowbasket in hand.

He gestured wordlessly for them to follow, his eyes lingering in disapproval on Morika’s hastily thrown-on clothing choices. As if she’d had the time or inclination to dress in her Gather best when she’d been woken up in the middle of the night to hear that her father was dying.

“How is he?” B’lor asked while they walked deeper into the hold, towards the lord holder’s quarters. Everything was hushed and shadowy, strangely dreamlike. Morika felt as if she’d been gone a lifetime, and not any time at all.

“My lord is not well. You may already be too late,” Tand said. Morika suppressed a surge of dislike at the disapproval in his tone, and how he guided them like guests through the halls they’d grown up in. All that was forgotten when they approached her parents’ quarters, and she saw her older sister sitting outside the door.

“Bralla,” B’lor said, hurrying past Tand.

“You made it,” Bralla said with relief, rising from her chair. She looked past B’lor to Tand. “You may go.”

Tand gave a wordless bow and departed back the way they’d come, not even bothering to look at Morika as he left. She frowned after him, then turned back to find Bralla studying her from head to toe. If her sister thought anything of Morika’s appearance, she was wise enough not to say it or show it.

“You two should go in. Menkar and Mother are with him right now.”

“Is Menkar…?” Morika couldn’t finish the question, or entirely suppress the spasm of unease at her elder brother’s name.

Bralla raised an eyebrow and didn’t answer. “You should go in.”

“Where’s Havran?” Morika asked hopefully, still not moving.

“He hasn’t made it in yet. We sent word to Benden immediately, but of course it takes time.”

“Morika,” B’lor said, and she reluctantly moved to join him, both sliding through the door while Bralla resumed her post in the hall.

“You can’t seriously still be scared of Menkar?” B’lor breathed to her in the room antechambers. He tapped her forehead meaningfully.

“It’s only been four days since the hatching, B’lor, they still haven’t lifted the block to keep me from hurting myself. I’m more deaf than I was before the earthquake.”

“Well he doesn’t know it. Don’t let him catch on.”

“It’s not that simple,” she mumbled.

“Come on, where’s the brave weyr girl?” He smiled encouragingly at her, and after a pause, she managed to smile back, straightening her spine from where she’d unconsciously folded in on herself. “There you go. You’re not some little girl anymore, Morika. Don’t forget.”

Morika took a breath, her mind racing with the memories of the trials she’d come through so recently, and tried to shake off habits and fear learned as a young and powerless child. She gave him a wordless smile of thanks, then retorted, “You’re being too nice, someone is going to revoke your big brother card,” and spun to walk through the living area towards the bedroom while he snorted.

“Bakalor, Morika!”

Their mother rose as soon as they appeared in the doorway and moved towards them with her arms outstretched, looking relieved. She hugged them both, then looked Morika up and down.

“Morika, what are you wearing?”

Morika looked down at her mismatched pants and dirty shirt. “It’s for cleaning, Mother, I’m sorry. I grabbed the first thing that came to hand when they woke me.”

She looked up and over her mother’s shoulder, to the wide bed where her father lay propped up on too many pillows, his eyes closed and apparently unaware that they’d entered. Menkar sat next to the bed with his elbows propped on his knees, and didn’t deign to look up or greet them.

“Papa?” Morika asked in a small voice, and walked up to the bed.

Lord Brenkin was a big man, with a commanding presence that extended beyond to make him seem even bigger. The man in the bed hardly looked like her father at all, reduced and contained, his breath rattling.

To her surprise, his eyes opened, and he coughed weakly before focusing on her, then B’lor as he came to stand at her shoulder.

“Morika. B’lor. What are you doing here at this time of night?”

“We came to see you,” B’lor said, sitting gingerly on the side of the bed. “We came as fast as we could.”

“Nonsense, no – no need to be haring about in the middle of the night. That dragon of yours needs his rest.”

Menkar roiled his eyes and rose, his dark gaze falling on Morika briefly before he left the room. Their mother followed him. Morika watched with narrowed eyes until she heard the door to the hall open, then click shut. She turned back to the bed.

“Papa, how are you?” Morika asked, reaching out hesitantly to take his hand. It felt cold and clammy beneath her fingers.

“Everyone is… making a big fuss for no reason.” And he rolled his eyes, hints of his former temper showing through.

Morika squeezed his hand.

“I didn’t get to see you… after the Hatching,” he said, studying her face. “Are you still planning to stay there?”

Morika hesitated, unsure what he wanted to hear, and unwilling to upset him.

“Well?” he prodded, and B’lor nudged her.

“Yes, I am.”

“Good.” He paused to cough again. “No daughter of Telgar gives up so easily, and you – you’re a special one. Faranth save your husband if we’d managed to marry you off.”

“Papa!” she protested.

He turned his eyes past to B’lor. “You keep an eye on your sister.”

“I will.”

“And your dragon. Going to defend our family hold, eh?”

“On my honor.”

“Good lad.”

His hand weakly squeezed Morika’s, then he freed it, patting her arm weakly.

“I need to rest… until Havran gets here. Send your mother in.”

“Yes, Papa,” Morika breathed. Helpless fear filled her and she battered at the block in her mind put there to protect her from accidentally drawing on her power while she was still burned out. Flame the block. What good were healing abilities and power if she couldn’t use them when she needed them?

When her father raised an expectant eyebrow at her, she realized she’d been dismissed and still hadn’t moved. Reluctantly, she followed B’lor back out to the hallway, where Bralla, Havran, and their mother were talking in low, fast voices. They immediately stopped when the younger siblings emerged.

“He asked for you,” B’lor said to their mother, and she cast a hard look at Menkar before nodding and walking back in.

“So nice of you to join us,” Menkar drawled, leaning back against the wall. “In whatever state the weyr saw fit to let you join civilized company.”

Morika bristled, but B’lor just looked resigned.

“Menkar,” Bralla snapped. “Don’t start.”

He barked a laugh, then looked away down the hall, the amusement dying completely from his face. “Well look who made it.”

Morika spun and saw a welcome sight. Her oldest brother, Havran, was striding down the hallway faster than Tand could reasonably keep up, the assistant steward bobbing in his wake at an undignified pace for his shorter legs.

“Havran!” she cried, and he smiled briefly at her, assessing the group at the door quickly.

“Is he still with us?” he asked Bralla. She was more forthcoming with him, standing immediately and bowing her head to him as if he were already the lord of the hold and not just their brother.

“He is, but it’s a near thing. The healers said a respiratory infection and a stroke. They don’t think he’ll make it much longer.”

Havran nodded sharply and made his way into the living chambers, Menkar following him without another glance for Morika and B’lor.

Morika started to say something, then noticed that Tand was still standing a few feet away, staring disapprovingly at her again. Exhausted and worried, she felt her temper snap.

“Yes? Did you need something?”

She could almost see the gears turning while he debated something to say, so she beat him to it, drawing herself up and staring him down.

“Do you not have duties to attend to? Or have your duties extended to staring at the ladies of the hold?”

B’lor snorted and Bralla choked while Tand turned an interesting shade of scarlet, then sketched a quick bow and immediately retreated.

“Morika!” Bralla chided. “I never!”

“Father was probably right about your poor hypothetical husband,” B’lor muttered, and Morika sighed loudly. “I'm pretty sure she’s been taking lessons from Taraline," he added to Bralla.

“I can see the weyr has encouraged some interesting habits,” Bralla said.

“Oh, leave off, Bralla,” Morika said, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor.

“Is Menkar going to contest the lordship?” B’lor asked, interrupting whatever else Bralla was about to say. She immediately sobered and jerked her chin in an affirmative.

“He can’t be serious,” Morika said, almost jumping back to her feet but thinking better of it when her head throbbed.

“He can be, and he is,” Bralla said, her jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. “He has some support, too.”

B’lor paced for a moment. “Does Havran know?”

“Havran always knows,” the sisters said almost in concert, and all three broke out in nervous, short laughter.

“I’m sure he was hoping that Havran wouldn’t get back in time,” Bralla said.

“How much longer?” Morika asked, unwilling to be more explicit.

Bralla eyed her. “You can’t tell?” The remark was almost snide, but Morika let it slide, just shaking her head. She had no desire to tell her prim older sister that her powers were currently shut down – or risk letting that get back to Menkar. Bralla sighed. “The healer doesn’t think he’ll make it past another few candlemarks. They gave him drugs to support him this far, so we could all get here.”

Morika drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin and keeping her mind carefully blank for several seconds while she tried to process that, feeling both numb and painfully sick of the constant upheaval in her life. “So soon.”

They lapsed into silence then, and B’lor began to pace again.

Minutes slipped past, fading into candlemarks. Morika shifted, and shifted again on the cold stone floor, uncomfortable but unwilling to move somewhere else. B’lor alternately paced and stood perfectly still. His unfocused face was the only clue Morika had that he was speaking with Nith. Meanwhile, Bralla kept her post on the chair, still and ladylike. The door never opened.

At some point, drudges moved down the hallway, shuttering glowbaskets and opening the bronze shutters on the cliff face as dawn light and air began to enter the hall. Morika levered herself to her feet and moved to a windowsill, leaning on it and staring down into the river valley as morning light stained the river red.

She was just beginning to consider the possibility of calling for food when she gasped, clutching her heart with one hand and her head with the other. The block in her head shuddered beneath the stabbing pain, then slowly resolidified.

“Morika?” B’lor demanded.

She whimpered, dropping her hands and spinning towards the door just as they heard a wail from within.

A healer, who had been in the room next door, ran out and threw open the door to the lords’ quarters.

“He’s dead!” their mother cried, stumbling out with tears on her cheeks. “He’s dead.” She sagged to Bralla’s shoulder, sobbing.

The healer hurried inside, and Morika forced her legs to move, following him to the inner rooms.

She knew as soon as she saw Lord Brenkin that he was gone. Both Havran and Menkar stood at the bedside and waited for the healer to pronounce it.

“The lord holder is dead. I’m sorry for your loss,” the healer intoned, and Morika shivered as she watched her older brothers lock eyes.

Menkar spun abruptly away and strode out of the room, brushing roughly past B’lor and pausing only long enough to throw at Morika, “Stick around, little sister. I have plans for you.” Then he was gone.

Morika dropped into a nearby chair and stared toward the bed. A tear dropped onto her hands, and she reached up to find them running down her cheeks. The room began to blur behind the tears, and she heard Nith trumpet outside.

“Lord Holder?” the healer asked, and Morika blinked hard, looking up to find him addressing Havran, who was staring fixedly at their father.

Havran slowly looked up. “Not yet,” he said. His eyes found first Morika, then B’lor, where he still stood by the doorway. “There will be a confirmation, first. You two had better stay. Menkar is going to be trouble.”

Morika surprised them all with a mirthless laugh. “Doesn’t he always?”

“He’s going to want to use you, Morika,” Havran warned.

“Use me?” She was puzzled, and wiped away her tears to see Havran better. “Who would even want to marry me at this point? I’ve been at the weyr for weeks.”

B’lor sighed. “You didn’t Impress, though. And you’re a Prime empath. Menkar doesn’t want to marry you off, he wants to use your powers.”

She was still confused at first, then understanding dawned with anger, and then she finally began to laugh. Her brothers stared at her, and even the healer, attending to the passed lord holder, shot her a look.

“Oh no. No, no. Menkar doesn’t know what I’ve gone through the last few weeks to earn my place at the weyr. He has no idea.”

“He is clever, you know that,” B’lor warned.

“And?” She looked around the room, at the hold that felt suddenly foreign, at the father who had unexpectedly supported her naïve leap to the weyr and was gone now, and then through the doorways to the window cut into the stone, where sunlight was creeping across the ledge and finally spilling in.

“The weyr is my home now.” It was a ringing pronouncement, startling even Morika with its sincerity.

Havran began to smile. “Then back to the weyr you shall go. But first, we’re going to have to play some politics.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Welcome to Part II! Thank you for allowing me a brief hiatus to recharge after Part I, and to deal with the insanity at work of getting our biyearly software release out the door. I'm back and glad to be writing, and we have some new faces around to make trouble.  
> Thank you very much to my faithful readers and reviewers last chapter, particularly Susan+Bischoff, plainbay, rpglady76, critterlady, and Kat Morgan. Your reviews are always so very appreciated!


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